I Feel Your Pain
by fernazab
Summary: What if you could kill someone by killing someone else? That's what someone tries to do since killing Arthur is obviously too hard . Little does this person know that Merlin wasn't the best choice for this spell. NO SLASH. As of July 2013 this story is on hiatus for at least 18 months.
1. Grumblings and Mutterings

**Dun, dun, dun! It is the poll winner! *Happy dance***

**NO slash.**

_**Disclaimer: Due to copyright laws we do not own Merlin...**_

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><p>Merlin was deceptively pleasant as he retrieved his master's breakfast. He listened patiently as the scullery servants chattered about last week's tournament. Their favorite battles. The most fantastic displays of skill. The prattling and giggling lasted at least five minutes before Merlin could finally escape.<p>

Yes, fantastic tournament indeed. Fantastic that it was _over._

Merlin always went paranoid during those tournaments. He had to scrutinize each competitor, make sure there were no would be assassins in the bunch. It seemed like someone was always using tournaments as an opportunity to kill Arthur. Always. Except this time. At least he thought—no—hoped so.

Something happened that unnerved him before the last fight. While adjusting Arthur's armor Merlin felt a shock of magic. He never pinpointed the source. It left as quickly as it came.

And so, he had spent the entire match looking out to protect Arthur. In vain Merlin waited for the finalist, Sir Ossaise, to do something dastardly. Arthur beat Sir So-and-So without so much as taking a hit. All by himself.

Now, of course, Merlin needed to figure out what that burst of magic was. Add that to his growing list of chores and responsibilities: Clean the leech tank, do Arthur's horrible laundry, polish the prat's armor, sharpen said prat's sword, collect herbs, clean up after the pigs known as visiting nobles, resist the urge to kill the guests of Camelot, find new ways to annoy Arthur, and—

"Argh!" Merlin growled.

Oh, yes. And find the time to mend his ruddy boots.

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><p>Arthur Pendragon was standing on top of his bed, sword drawn and poised to attack. He would find his assailant and—<p>

_Clatter!_

Arthur whipped around to find a clearly clumsy and confused Merlin standing in the doorway.

"Check under the bed," Arthur commanded.

Merlin, however, stared with a gaping mouth as though Arthur had spontaneously grown an extra head. Honestly, did his servant have to be an idiot? The command had been perfectly reasonable. Whoever had attacked Arthur could be hiding under there.

"Now!" Arthur barked.

Merlin didn't move. "What are you doing?" he asked weakly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What does it look I'm doing, _Mer_lin?"

"Making an idiot of yourself," Merlin mumbled.

"What was that?" Arthur asked testily.

"Nothing."

The servant stepped over what should have been breakfast. He strode across the room, bent down, and looked.

"Wow," he said.

"What?"

"It looks the same as last time I was under here."

Arthur resisted the urge to poke Merlin with the sword. And the urge to kick him. This wasn't a good angle for kicking.

After being forced to stare under the bed, Merlin hoped the joke was over. Much to his dismay, it wasn't. Arthur insisted on Merlin checking the wardrobe while the prat checked behind the screen.

Nothing in Arthur's wardrobe surprised Merlin. The only things in there were clothes. Clothes that Merlin cleaned and put away on a regular basis.

"Yes, it's fascinating to look at all your clothes," Merlin said sarcastically. "B—"

"Are you sure that all of them are there? Have you counted my shirts?"

Arthur looked angry. Was he still upset about that? How petty.

Several days ago, Merlin had managed to lose one of Arthur's shirts. Merlin didn't want to think about how many times he had retraced his steps. He had searched high and low in his and Gaius's chambers. He had frantically paced the corridor where a random man had knocked Merlin over and ran off. And he had been caught under Arthur's bed hunting for it. At that moment, Merlin had to confess. He hadn't intended on ever fessing up. But when one is caught muttering things like "Where is that blasted shirt," the truth is a bit difficult to conceal. Needless to say, Arthur hadn't been pleased. Merlin had been forced to listen to an incessant tirade of threats to make him pay for the shirt if it wasn't found.

Fortunately, Merlin had found the blasted thing a few days ago. It had been on one of Gaius's benches. Merlin had nearly sat on it right before going to bed one evening. The stupid shirt didn't even have the decency of being found in the hallway where he'd been knocked over!

So, Merlin informed Arthur and cleaned it. Then, yesterday he had never before been so insistent about what Arthur should wear. If Merlin had to go through so much trouble over that shirt, then dang it, it would be worn!

Now, Arthur had all his clothes. Yet he still seemed scarred about losing one of his many shirts. Merlin considered making some jibe about that, but decided against it.

When Merlin didn't answer the taunt, Arthur ordered him to fix breakfast.

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><p>Arthur stared. He had eaten, dressed, and listed off Merlin's chores for the day. Only one order of business remained before he suited up for training. But there was a small problem. Arthur had already completed this task. He was sure of it. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes ago! That, and it was uncomfortable, in more than one way. Waking to a randomly throbbing toe was unpleasant to say the least. But that could be explained by perhaps an infection. And there was nothing embarrassing about it. This... Well, maybe it too could be an infection of some sort. All the same, this was worse than a throbbing toe.<p>

"Arthur," Merlin broke the prince's reverie, "you don't need to be so shocked that I emptied the chamberpot."

Arthur forced himself to stop staring at the chamberpot. "Well, you are the laziest servant I've ever had," Arthur deflected.

Merlin, as he began helping Arthur into his armor, spoke, "But I do make sure your obsessions are taken care of. So you shouldn't have been worried about the chamberpot."

Arthur kept his voice level and calm, "I am not obsessed with the chamberpot."

"Really? I just thought, well, by the way you_ looked_ at it..."

"_Mer_lin," Arthur warned.

"Fine," Merlin muttered. He stepped aside for a moment to retrieve the gauntlets. "We can talk about you feelings later," he added.

"No," Arthur grabbed the empty chamberpot. "I think we need to talk about_ your_ feelings!" He lobbed the pot at his servant.

As usual, Merlin dodged the projectile. He glared at the overgrown child. Of all things to throw! That thing was vile. When Arthur wasn't using it, he should leave it under the bed!

Arthur drew a breath and thrust it back out to calm himself. "Finish putting on my armor, Merlin."

Merlin wordlessly complied. He placed one of the gauntlets around the prince's wrist. As he began tightening the armor, Merlin accidentally pinched himself.

In that same moment, Arthur slightly jerked his arm away.

"Something wrong?" Merlin asked.

"Nothing," Arthur lied.

Arthur wondered if he was losing his mind.

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><p>Originally, Merlin was going to be on standby during training. But then, Arthur had thought better of it. His servant was better employed elsewhere.<p>

Sir Ossaise was insufferably obnoxious. Therefore, Arthur didn't want to interact with him any more than was requisite. And seeing Sir Ossaise on the training field wasn't necessarily requisite.

Merlin had complained about having to serve Sir Ossaise. But Arthur didn't care. Especially after hearing comments like, "He's worse than you." Besides, doing at least a few chores for "honored" guests was one of the duties of the being the prince's manservant.

And it was the perfect distraction for Sir Ossaise. That man had a strange obsession with supervising a servant's work. Merlin scrubbing the floor for him would occupy the noble plenty.

Arthur began the usual rounds of training the knights. Thankfully the phantom desires to relieve himself were long gone.

Through training, none of the knights were doing anything quite up to par. A strange, raw, and painful sensation was creeping through his hands, fingers, and knees. Between those two things, the prince was growing increasingly frustrated and irritable. Some of his knights were becoming decorated with bruises. If he gave out any more bruises, some idiot might decide it should be a fashion statement.

Then Arthur's back started becoming sore. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He had never felt like this during training. He wasn't going to give any indication of discomfort to the knights though. Arthur trained himself and the other knights even harder until—

"Argh!" Arthur bellowed involuntarily.

He had pulled a muscle.

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><p>Merlin scrubbed the floor of an occupied guest chamber. This particular noble, Sir Ossaise, felt the need to make a nuisance of himself. One of his pleasures was to continuously ask things like, "Aren't you finished yet?" He could never leave that issue alone for more than a minute. The moron refused to ever use his eyes to find the answer. And Merlin already knew from past experience that claiming to be done never helped. In fact, it meant more work and more begging for progress reports.<p>

Merlin's current tactic was to ignore the visiting nobleman. That meant that his questions were punctuated with cries of, "Answer me!"

And Merlin continued to ignore the jerk. For someone so insistent, he really was terrible at the part about enforcing an order. His attempts at glowering and looking intimidating were more than a little pathetic. Too bad Merlin hadn't thought to pretend deafness from the beginning.

He reached his cloth toward the bucket—

_Clunk._

_Splash._

The water was now everywhere.

Merlin uttered a cry of pain. As the servant gasped for breath, Sir Ossaise made some insensitive comment about stupid, useless servants.

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><p><strong>What did you think? Reviews, please cheese :)<strong>


	2. Aches and Bruises

**Thank you, everyone, for the feedback! _Did it take us a long time to get this up?_ Don't answer that. It sure felt like a long time anyhow.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Merlin experimentally stretched his arm, wincing as he did so. His arm ached constantly. Moving intensified that pain. Sometimes he didn't even need to move for that to happen. It was torture. No, that was an exaggeration. Well, maybe just a slight one... This really wouldn't be so bad if Merlin didn't have chores all day long.<p>

Gaius had told Merlin not to overuse his arm today. Was that even possible with Arthur's list of chores? If Gaius really wanted to protect Merlin's arm, then he himself would have informed the prince. Merlin wondered if not asking Arthur to give a reprieve was Gaius's way of punishing Merlin for "not telling me something."

Merlin had given every detail about the event. He was scrubbing the floor. He reached out to wet his rag. Then it felt as though someone yanked his muscle clear out of his arm. There was nothing else to explain.

But, no matter what Merlin said, Gaius was skeptical. Gaius kept reiterating that such a small stretch shouldn't have pulled Merlin's muscle this badly. He shouldn't have a nasty bruise. Therefore, Merlin must be holding back information.

Merlin sighed. His eyes flashed, and the bed made itself. _Gaius wouldn't approve of this._ Normally—though this wasn't true when the warlock first came to Camelot—Merlin would agree with Gaius's sentiments. Merlin avoided resorting to magic for chores. He preferred to be competent at his work whether watched or not. The only way to do that was to work mundanely at least most of the time.

But today, he justified magically completing chores behind Arthur's back because, frankly, his arm _hurt._ And after all, Gaius didn't want Merlin's muscle to get overworked.

Arthur entered the room once again. Merlin swore mentally. Despite Merlin's rebelliousness, he really wasn't getting much work done today. When watched, since the lazy way out involved no pain, Merlin worked even slower than his arm forced him to.

Time for an even longer list of chores and more—this time well-earned—reprimands on laziness.

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><p>Arthur contemplated a taxing dilemma as he stared at his empty plate. His stomach was sending two contradicting messages. He had no more room in his stomach. He was even feeling a little overfull. Yet, the sensation of being famished remained.<p>

He had had a similar experience yesterday. The feeling did go away eventually, but Arthur wasn't going to wait for that today. He was determined to eat until the hunger went away.

"Merlin," the prince called, "get me another plate of food."

Merlin's jaw dropped. He stared with round saucer-like eyes. "I've already had to get seconds for you. I don't think the kitchen maids will believe me if I tell them you want thirds."

Normally, Merlin's point would be valid. Arthur had already eaten significantly more than usual. However, normally, Arthur wouldn't still be hungry. Well, he was full, but he was still hungry!

"_Mer_lin," Arthur threatened.

Looking exasperated and still a bit shocked, "Alright," Merlin conceded. With that, he left.

_If he comes back without any food_, Arthur thought,_ I will march him down to the kitchens myself and demand another plate of food._

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><p>Merlin hurried to the kitchens. He was particularly hungry today. But was he getting food for himself? No, he was catering to someone who must be already stuffed beyond measure. Merlin was used to waiting long periods of time to eat. But today was just one of those days where hunger pains are more acute. Honestly, Merlin was seriously considering swiping some of Arthur's food. That is, if by some miracle the kitchen maids even believed him. If they didn't, he'd snag food elsewhere.<p>

He was pleasantly surprised when the kitchen staff didn't call him a liar. Not directly at least. Cook did, however, bluntly accuse him of clumsiness. She told him that if he "lost another plate of food, the prince himself will have to come down and order another platter."

Merlin returned to Arthur's chambers. When he set the plate (now short of a roll and a drumstick) in front of Arthur, Merlin thought the prince didn't look all that happy at the sight of more food. In fact, the prat almost looked positively forlorn about it.

Well, that debunked the theory that Arthur wanted the food for some sort of mischief toward Merlin.

As Arthur ate, Merlin began feeling increasingly nauseated. Merlin had seen his master eat inordinate amounts of food before. Feasts were a prime example. But it had never made him feel sick before. As hungry as he was, Merlin wanted nothing more than to avoid food until further notice. Food was bad.

"Merlin," Arthur grunted when he finally finished his exorbitantly large lunch.

"Yes?" Merlin replied. He wondered if his face reflected how he felt.

"I need you to polish my armor, sharpen my sword..." Apparently he didn't look to sick since Arthur kept prattling off his list of chores. "Clean my room..." Without meaning to, the warlock began to zone out. Somewhere around "check the archery targets" Merlin realized that he wasn't paying attention. Somehow, he had a feeling that that command had been pointless. "Then, I want you to muck out my horses," Arthur finished.

Before Merlin could reply, Arthur opened his mouth again.

"What _is_ the matter with you?"

"Huh? Oh. Nothing," Merlin responded hastily. Arthur glared at him. "I'm just not feeling well." And for once in who knows how long, that statement was completely true.

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><p>As Arthur reached the tip of the corridor, he recognized that he had just ordered a few already completed chores. He shrugged it off. Merlin would figure it out. If he didn't, then it served him right. The manservant had been especially lazy today. Besides, he didn't even seem to be listening when Arthur listed off the chores.<p>

The prince continued walking to his duties. He held his face neutral. Which was difficult. He was painfully aware that each step was making his stomach slosh horribly.

He almost wished that he left himself in the strange famished state.

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><p>Within minutes of Arthur leaving, Merlin locked the door. He cast some spells to finish the bedroom work, and lay down in the middle of the floor. He tried not to moan.<p>

When the spells had done their work, Merlin still didn't want to move. He had a roll and a drumstick hidden somewhere in his jacket. He couldn't bear the idea of eating though. He wanted to barf. However, he knew there wasn't anything in his stomach to dispose of. Watching Arthur eat shouldn't have have made him sick. Merlin had every right to sit there and be jealous. No, instead, some strange part of him was pitying Arthur. What was the world coming to?

Sighing, he grasped a nearby chair and pulled himself to his feet.

He made his way to the armory. (Why he was putting himself through this, he didn't know.)

Half way through checking the second target, Merlin noticed something. He had done this job yesterday. Partly annoyed and partly relieved, Merlin smiled at his master's... whether it was thoughtlessness or attempted mischief, Merlin couldn't tell right now.

Now that he knew the targets were fine, Merlin needed to take care of the stables. At least his stomach had settled a little, even if is arm still hurt like mad. He had finished his other chores fairly quickly. (No one needed to know that he had cheated.) And if Merlin finished the stables fast enough, he could probably find a spare moment to rest.

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><p>If only it were safe to magically muck out the stables... Merlin didn't know how many times that thought had crossed his mind in the past. He probably mentally bemoaned the openness of the stables every time he touched the pitchfork. However, he was sure he had never wished to use magic for the stables more than he did now.<p>

Wincing, Merlin stretched his right arm a bit. His pulled muscle burned even though he was trying to avoid using his injured arm. He had even tried one-handedly scooping the horse dung. That didn't work very well.

Again, he shifted the position he held the pitchfork in, and continued to work. The idea of rest was the only thing keeping him going.

Somebody entered the stables. The sound was so quiet that Merlin almost didn't notice it. He kept working. He wanted to finish this chore as fast as possible. _Whoever it is will say something if he needs me._

Merlin heard the newcomer approach. The footfalls sounded like they were attempting to be stealthy without knowing how to be. Odd. Merlin guessed this person wasn't a messenger then. It probably wasn't Arthur either. Arthur didn't have a reason to approach in that manner. At least, that's what Merlin thought.

_No, it's probably Arthur, _Merlin decided.

Merlin turned around. He had moved just in time to see the flash of a knife.

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><p><strong>We know it sounds pathetic, but... reviews please? Please cheese? You know you want to ;)<strong>


	3. Bleeding and Expelling

**Aha! It's up! _And it only took us about, what? A month? _Shhh... We don't talk about that. Besides, we have excellent excuses that we won't bore anyone with. _Those excuses aren't going away._ Sadly, (or not sadly...) that's true.**

**Anyway, on with the show!**

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><p>He shouldn't have eaten thirds. Heck, he probably shouldn't have eaten seconds. He felt constantly on the brink of expelling... everything. The food often invaded his throat as he walked. Even when he wasn't walking he had to swallow his lunch back down a few times. Arthur hoped no one could see this discomfort in his face.<p>

Now, what was Ossaise saying? Oh, it had something to do with Merlin's insolence. Sounded about right. Insolence was Merlin's almost constant state of being. Except... Merlin was usually polite to guests. Usually.

Arthur replied that he would handle his own servants.

He would talk to Merlin. Deserved or not, Merlin couldn't be overtly rude to visitors.

Arthur clenched his fist to stop himself from rolling his shoulder. Pain had shot through his right arm again. It kept doing that randomly. Then, in just the past half-hour the pain had become more intense and more frequent. Now he was feeling extra pain at least a few times a minute. It felt like every other second though.

"Your manservant doesn't listen," Sir Ossaise complained.

The prince resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ossaise was right about that. Actually, the nobleman was correct about almost all of Merlin's tendencies. Arthur didn't need to say that though.

"I know how to deal with him," Arthur assured. "He won't cause you anymore trouble." _Because he won't be helping you anymore, _Arthur added silently. _Someone else, someone more long-suffering than Merlin, will be preoccupying you from now on._

"He had better not," Ossaise sniffed and strutted away.

Now, Arthur needed to find some of his knights. Tonight, the prince and a few others would need to fill patrol duty for some ill knights.

Arthur found Gwaine in a hallway, for once, not by the tavern.

As he spoke to Gwaine, to Arthur's surprise, a sharp pain suddenly stabbed into the shoulder of his uninjured arm. He tried not to wince, and he continued to explain tonight's patrol routes to Gwaine.

The insubordinate knight wasn't listening though! He furrowed his brow and didn't look Arthur in the face. Was Gwaine capable of focusing on _anything_?

"Gwaine!" Arthur snapped. "This is just routine. Pay attention. You can go to the tavern tomorrow."

Gwaine looked up. "What about the tavern?"

"You're not going to it."

"That's not fair..." Gwaine went back to staring at whatever had held his interest before. "Why is your shoulder wet?"

"What?" Arthur asked.

That was random, even for Gwaine. Arthur looked down at his shoulder. It was wet. Confused, the prince touched his moist shirt. He pulled his hand away and looked it. Arthur gasped. His palm was covered in a red substance that looked like blood. It smelled like blood too. But that was impossible. Arthur would have know if he had gotten blood, his or otherwise, on himself.

"Time to see Gaius," Gwaine said matter-of-factly.

"No, I—"

"Save it, princess." Gwaine grabbed Arthur's unbloodied arm, unwittingly grasping the bruising from the pulled muscle.

"Argh!" Arthur cried out.

He tried to pull away, but his head was swimming. The ground swayed violently. Arthur leaned over, wishing the floor would stay put. He vomited. Suddenly, it felt as though his sternum wanted to break away from his rib cage and jump out his throat. He fell to his hands and knees, and labored to breathe. His hands trembled, only barely holding him above the pile of sick.

The moment Arthur's vomiting seemed to subside, Gwaine pulled the prince to his feet.

"Wait," Arthur gasped irrationally. "I'm not ready to move."

Gwaine didn't even pause. He wrapped the prince's unbloodied arm around his shoulder and guided the prince. "There's no time like the present," the knight replied callously.

Arthur knew they were headed to Gaius's, but he couldn't focus on where he was or in what direction he was going. At some point on the journey to Gaius's, Arthur felt a stinging pain in his open wound. Arthur suddenly twisted away from Gwaine's vice-like grip. Instead of getting away, Arthur only sank.

"Oh, no you don't," Gwaine said and jerked Arthur back onto his feet. Arthur was fairly certain he had imagined that hint of concern in the knight's voice.

"I'm fine," Arthur insisted. He just needed to stay still for a moment.

In response, Gwaine continued to tug Arthur along. They didn't get much further before Arthur vomited again, covering even more of the castle floor. Even though he was spewing everywhere, his sternum still tried to tear itself free as though he had nothing to vomit. Again, Arthur had barely any time to cough or sputter before Gwaine began dragging him.

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><p>Merlin gingerly pulled his shirt on over his newly bandaged knife wound.<p>

"And you're sure no one saw you," Gaius probed.

"Other than him, no," Merlin replied blearily.

"If he tells anyone, Merlin, that you used magic..." Gaius trailed off. Someone had stabbed Merlin in the stables, and the boy, without thinking, had thrown the man with magic. Merlin had said he didn't recognize his attacker. Whoever the assailant was, he obviously wasn't a friend and he now knew Merlin's secret. Or maybe he already knew Merlin's secret...

"I know."

"How are you going to explain what happened?"

"Arthur doesn't need to know the details. Just that there's a violent man prone to random murders on the loose."

Merlin leaned over and looked as though he might retch a third time.

"How—"

Gaius was cut off by the door swinging open impressively. Gwaine dragged in an ashen-faced Arthur.

"Arthur," Merlin said automatically.

"What happened?" Gaius demanded. He straightened.

"Not really sure," Gwaine said as he pulled Arthur to the nearest seat. "The vomiting's over. I hope."

Gaius walked over to Arthur. The physician leaned over, placing a hand on the prince. Arthur's shoulder was wet. It was probably from the vomit. Arthur looked like he was in shock. It smelt like the prince had coughed up some blood along with the vomit. However, there was no blood around Arthur's mouth. Gaius straightened and pulled his hand away. Upon seeing his palm, his jaw dropped slightly. His hand was now red with blood.

"He's bleeding," Gaius looked to Gwaine for an explanation.

"That's why I brought princess to you in the first place," Gwaine said, earning a glare from Arthur and a raised eyebrow from Gaius. Undeterred, Gwaine continued. "The vomiting happened on the way here."

"Sire, I need to remove your shirt," Gaius instructed.

Arthur nodded. He wearily lifted his arms as the physician pulled the blood-soaked garment over the prince's head. Gaius busied himself cleaning the wound. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. The wound looked just like... Gaius had to be imagining it.

"How did you receive this wound?" Gaius asked.

Arthur shook his head, "I don't know."

"He was just standing around when he started bleeding," Gwaine supplied.

Maybe Gaius wasn't imagining it. He checked Arthur's right arm. It was purple, probably from a pulled muscle. The physician wanted to be absolutely certain though.

"Gwaine," Gaius requested, resorting to his usual tactics, "go get me some water."

"Dogsbody work," Gwaine directed at Arthur. "The things I do for you." The knight sauntered away, wiping his hands onto his trousers as he went.

Gaius continued to clean the odd wound. Arthur winced at the familiar stinging sensation. It was giving him an odd sense of deja vu. He was, of course, familiar with the sting of having a wound cleaned. But some how, it seemed as though he had just done this.

After Gaius wrapped the wound, he turned to Merlin, "Merlin, I need you to get me something."

Merlin groaned. Instead of complying, he lay down.

"Merlin," Gaius insisted. "I need," he glanced across the room, "dock leaf."

Merlin grunted.

"Merlin," Gaius persisted.

The sickly-looking man finally sat up. He gave Gaius a look that said, _Don't you know that I'm dying?_ Merlin grumbled something indistinctly before finally standing. A sudden vertigo washed over Arthur. He vaguely wondered why Gaius thought his ward was up to moving.

Merlin made it half way to the bottle-laden shelves when he turned around, "What did you say you wanted, Gaius?"

"Dock leaf," Gaius said absently as he picked up a rod. "I need to make a tincture out of it."

Merlin stared in stupid befuddlement, "Isn't that for old women?"

Gaius jumped. "Just get it," he ordered.

"Alright," Merlin mumbled. He stepped up to the shelves and stared.

"Sire," Gaius said, "I need to check something to be sure I give you the right treatment."

"Alright," Arthur replied.

"Straighten your leg, sire."

Confused, Arthur obeyed. Gaius placed the rod under Arthur's ankle and slid it up the leg to the calf. The physician lowered the rod, looked at Merlin, and then swung upward.

Arthur cried out. _Did that just happen?_

Arthur suddenly felt dizzy as Merlin spun around. "What was that for!" The manservant shouted.

"What was what for?" Arthur demanded back.

"You threw something at me! I didn't even do anything!" It was bad enough that Arthur seemed to think chucking things was all fun and games, but this, this was intolerable. Merlin was innocent, injured, and had his back turned!

"I'm too busy with Gaius's _treatments_ to throw anything at a worthless idiot!" Arthur shot back.

"Really!" Merlin spoke faster, louder, and higher with each word, " Did he tell you to test your throwing arm? Maybe I should do that too!"

Merlin grabbed the first thing he could get his hand on. His pulled muscle protested violently, but he didn't care. Before he had a chance to even look at the object in his hand, something was flying out of his outstretched arm.

Right then, Merlin realized that he had done something really stupid. He didn't even know what he had thrown. Besides, it was Arthur's job to throw things at friends, not Merlin's. It'd be okay, though. Arthur would duck.

Arthur did duck, but not enough. Or in the right direction. He curled over and grasped his arm. Then a candle smacked him square in face.

Merlin staggered backward. His face had abruptly hurt.

"Sire," Gaius interrupted the fight, "it appears that someone is trying to kill you."

"I've noticed!" Arthur snapped. He glared wildly at Merlin.

"Someone is trying to kill you with _sorcery_," Gaius amended dramatically.

Arthur whipped his head into Gaius's direction. He blinked. "And you needed to hit my leg to figure that out?" When was someone not trying to use sorcery to kill the prince? Besides, wounds didn't make themselves. The sudden bleeding in Arthur's shoulder had to be the result of magic.

"Not exactly," Gaius said cautiously. Arthur gave him a strange look. Gaius continued, "I needed to know what type of sorcery they did."

Arthur stared up at Gaius in a way that said, _I'm not following. What does my leg have to do with this?_ He indicated for Gaius to go on.

"Your skills as a warrior are renowned."

"Gaius, I'm aware." Arthur looked quite worried for the old man's sanity.

"I think they wanted an easier target," Gaius explained.

Arthur opened his mouth. Then shut it. He had no idea what Gaius was getting at.

"Legends speak of certain spells that allowed two life forces to be bound. You harm one, it harms the other. However, then, it was used for diplomatic purposes, not assassination."

Merlin spoke up, "Gaius, you are not saying what I think you're saying."

"I'm afraid so. The person who stabbed you was actually more interested in killing Arthur. You were collateral damage."

"I'm still confused," Arthur announced.

"We've been cursed," Merlin groaned. "I feel your pain; and, you feel my pain. Because some idiot thinks I'm easier to kill than you."

Gaius gave Merlin a warning look.

Arthur, however, laughed, "I see this whole thing hasn't dampened your sense of humor at all."

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><p><strong>What did you think? Review please? That includes you, Fern's fiance. I know you're reading this. In fact, I demand a review from you.<em> Don't worry honey, I'll be ok if you don't... Zab might not be... But I will.<em> Recant that now! He doesn't listen to me. And you're encouraging bad behavior, to boot!**


	4. Buckets and Babysitters

**Thank you everyone for reviews.**

**We do have a few things to clarify. First, this story is pre-Agravaine. We're pretty sure they'd die if Agravaine was in the court during these events. At least, the way the story is going they would. Second, the moment before Gaius walloped Arthur's leg: Gaius was trying to keep Arthur from realizing what he was about to do. Third, we don't know off the tops of our heads a bunch of herbal remedies, certainly not herbal remedies for menopause. How we came across the dock leaf and its uses is a long story that we doubt you care about.**

**Now, on with the show!**

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><p>"Arthur, I do not need a babysitter!" Merlin snarled.<p>

"They're not _babysitters_," Arthur corrected. "They're knights. And if you don't stop acting like a child, I'll get you real babysitter."

"You could use one," Merlin retorted sullenly.

"You nearly died yesterday!"

"And I'm still here."

"Merlin, if you get yourself killed..." Arthur stopped himself. He had been about to say that he wouldn't be able to forgive himself because he would feel responsible for Merlin's death. Then he remembered that he wouldn't have to live with the guilt. It was strange to think of his life so connected to Merlin's.

"Yes, you'll die too," Merlin incorrectly finished Arthur's sentence.

Arthur winced. The tone Merlin used suggested that Arthur wouldn't care about his servant's life if it didn't affect his own. Merlin of all people should know that wasn't true. Arthur would lay down his life—No, Arthur couldn't lay down his life for anyone now! He could no longer sacrifice his life without ensuring that Merlin died as well. Arthur would happily offer his life to save another, but he couldn't in good conscience also offer Merlin's life.

"We'll both die," Arthur said. "You can't be careless."

"I was only collecting pots for Gaius!" Merlin objected.

"I don't care what you're doing. I told you to never leave the citadel without an armed escort."

"Don't you think it would look a _bit_ odd if a servant is being escorted everywhere by knights?"

"That's why Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, or Leon is supposed to keep an eye on you."

"I still don't need a babysitter. And they have better things to do than follow me around."

"Well, now that you mention it, they do have better things to do. I should just throw you in the dungeons."

"What will you say to Gwen?" Merlin reminded Arthur.

"She already knows about the situation. She was the one who suggested the 'babysitters.'"

Merlin's jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out a little.

Taking advantage of Merlin's shocked silence, Arthur continued, "If you leave without protection one more time, I _will_ throw you in the dungeons."

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><p>Merlin didn't try leaving the citadel again that day without guards. He didn't have the opportunity. Arthur had assigned a constant watch on Merlin. Two knights would stay on standby, often outside a door, while Merlin waited on Arthur or did chores in Arthur's presence. Then, if Merlin left for any reason, the guards would follow him.<p>

The original plan was to only stick one guard on Merlin. However, then Arthur stated concern that Gwaine would take Merlin to the tavern. Therefore, Gwaine would be the constant guard while the other selected knights would rotate.

Merlin was irked that Arthur would go so far as to feign a distrust of Gwaine in order to double up Merlin's "protection." Merlin usually enjoyed the company of the knights, but not when they were assigned to him, not when he had to listen to lame babysitter jokes all day, and not when their presence made him vulnerable. Protecting himself would be more difficult now that he couldn't be alone. He also wouldn't get as much of an opportunity to continue last night's research of the predicament he and Arthur were now in. Merlin now wished he hadn't pushed the issue of not needing guards. At least before he was only watched if he left the citadel.

Now, Merlin, accompanied by Gwaine and Percival, was polishing Arthur's hauberk in the armory while the prince sat in some private meeting that servants weren't supposed to have any part in. Merlin was confident though that Arthur would tell him if anything important was discussed.

"So, Merlin, why doesn't princess trust me?" Gwaine asked as he leaned over a rack of swords.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but didn't turn his head up from his work. "It's not you that he doesn't trust," he said. "It's me."

"Since when?" Gwaine questioned.

"He's worried that I'll go to the tavern," Merlin half-lied.

"So he doesn't trust me," Gwaine translated.

"No," Merlin tried. He looked up. "Yes," he then agreed, breaking under Gwaine's incredulous stare. "He thinks I'm always in the tavern and that you'd be a bad influence."

"First, you're never in the tavern. I should know. Second, I like the tavern. A lot. But I like my friends more. I'm not risking your life in favor of the tavern. But now that you mention it..." Gwaine stopped fingering the sword hilts and smiled deviously. "One of us should sneak off to get a tankard. One drink wouldn't hurt. And it'd probably do you good," Gwaine indicated Merlin's injuries.

Merlin smiled in spite of himself. He couldn't deny that a little ale sounded nice right now. He probably couldn't get tipsy without Arthur knowing though. Besides, even without that factor to consider, Merlin generally avoided getting drunk. He had more reason to avoid the tavern than to dispel the drunkard image Arthur had of him. Merlin had a responsibility to protect Arthur and Camelot that could call him at any moment. That, and Merlin was scared of accidentally causing a magical spectacle.

"Not right now," Merlin evaded. He tried to focus his mind back on polishing, which the knights seemed determined to make difficult.

"C'mon, Merlin," Gwaine encouraged, "you deserve a little fun. And Arthur will never know."

"So Arthur was right to not trust you," Merlin concluded.

"I thought it was you he didn't trust," Percival, who had been testing the weight of a recently forged hammer, calmly pointed out.

"I was wrong," Merlin said. "I take it back."

"Actually," Gwaine straightened a bit, "I think you might have been right. There must be a reason he's giving you babysitters. What did you do?" He then leaned in closer.

"I went to collect pots," Merlin replied.

"Danger business, collecting pots," Gwaine taunted.

"It seems Merlin broke the most important law in Camelot," Percival jibed. "_Never_ collect pots, under pain of babysitters."

"That's it," Merlin announced. He threw down his polishing rag, jumped to his feet, and strode to the door.

"Where are you going?" Percival asked, replacing the hammer.

"To let Arthur know how I feel about the situation," Merlin said without any break in stride.

Gwaine and Percival exchanged looks before dutifully and speechlessly pursuing Merlin. Neither knight expected Merlin to suddenly insist on immediately protesting to Arthur, especially considering that Arthur was in an important meeting. But neither knight wanted to stop Merlin. The sight could be fun.

After following an irate Merlin for a while, Gwaine pointed out, "The council chambers are that way."

"I know," Merlin answered almost cheerfully, not caring that he had walked straight past the most direct route to Arthur's most likely location.

A minute later they passed the most direct route to Arthur's chambers, which Percival pointed out.

"I know," Merlin said again.

"Aren't you going to give Arthur an earful?" Gwaine asked.

"I need to get something first," Merlin answered almost as though his intentions were obvious.

"And what do we need to get first?" Gwaine pressed.

"A bucket of water."

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><p>Arthur wasn't sure he'd ever get used to feeling Merlin's pain along with his own. He would be only sitting in a council, like was he was now, and he'd feel his pulled muscle tug and knife wound occasionally sting. Hopefully, he wouldn't be stuck under the enchantment long enough to become accustomed to it.<p>

He listened intently as one of the councilors recounted what he knew about reports of nearby sorcerers. Normally, Arthur would skim past the reports about sorcerers. Those stories weren't always accurate. Usually somebody was just being paranoid. Besides, such matters could be handled in a more public council.

However, now someone was trying to kill him via killing Merlin. Of course, no one else knew that except Gwen and Gaius. The fewer people who knew, the better. Since Arthur drunk in every magic report and no one in the council knew of Arthur's predicament, the prince probably appeared more obsessed with destroying magic than his father ever had.

Though many of the councilors would probably disagree, Arthur personally thought this almost-finished meeting had been quite successful. He had plenty of leads to follow. He planned on leaving with Merlin to investigate as soon as possible.

Then Arthur's arm suddenly began to tug so fiercely that it seemed to threaten tearing itself. Arthur grunted in pain. He had to assure the councilors that he was fine even though he wasn't. Whatever Merlin was doing, it wasn't polishing.

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><p>Flabbergasted, Gwaine and Percival had watched Merlin draw water and carry, no swing, it through the halls. They tried telling him that he'd hurt himself, but Merlin wouldn't release the bucket. He obviously realized that he was harming himself. His jaw gritted in pain and determination attested to that. The knights wondered if they should take the bucket from him, but never acted on the idea.<p>

Now, they had tromped halfway across the castle still without a clue as to why Merlin needed a bucket of water. He didn't want to splash it on Arthur because splashing the water would "defeat the purpose." Merlin simply maintained that Arthur would understand the meaning behind his actions.

The knights attempted talking Merlin into visiting Gaius before protesting to Arthur. When that didn't work, they continued the interrogation about the water. They made several conjectures about Merlin's method of protest.

"Are you going to flood Arthur's chambers?" Gwaine guessed.

Merlin was too annoyed with Arthur to even crack a smile. "That would take too long," he stated.

"Dump it on his bed?" Percival put forth.

"Maybe later," Merlin said.

They neared Arthur's chambers. Then Merlin stopped by the door. He insisted on waiting there for Arthur. All the while Merlin rocked the bucket to and fro.

Before too long Arthur arrived looking livid. "Merlin! What are you doing!" He shouted. "Drop the bucket!"

"Call off the babysitters," Merlin contended.

Arthur stomped forward. "Don't be stupid, Merlin! You're hurting yourself."

"Yep," Merlin said defiantly.

"Do you want to go to the dungeons?"

"I'll make you hate every second of it."

Arthur lunged for the bucket. Merlin recoiled and cried out, looking anguished. Water sloshed about as Arthur wrested the bucket from Merlin's grasp. Arthur then thrusted the water into Gwaine's arms.

"Get rid of it," he ordered. "Now! Both of you!" He pointed to the knights and then away.

As the knights hurried away Gwaine muttered loud enough for Arthur and Merlin to hear, "I didn't know a bucket of water could cause so much trouble."

"_What_ were you thinking?" Arthur demanded as soon as he thought the knights were out of earshot.

"Arthur—" Merlin began.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin! Don't you _dare—_"

Merlin's body jolted. He had to stop himself from looking around in alarm. The uncomfortable sensation of magic other then his own pulsed through him. Somebody had released some extremely powerful magic.

"Merlin," Arthur said, "what the h— is that?"

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><p><em><strong>Before anyone askswonders, no, Arthur is NOT getting magical powers. **_**What's going on will be explained in depth next chapter.**

**Review please?**


	5. Itching and Smelling

**Um... you know the usual excuses for not updating in a timely manner. _School, love life, family, work, etc._**

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><p>"What is what?" Merlin asked, hoping he had guessed incorrectly about what Arthur was referring to.<p>

"That..." Arthur shook out his arm. "Itching!"

"Itching?" Maybe Merlin had guessed wrong. One could always hope.

"Yes! It feels like my blood is itching."

"Are you sure?" Merlin stared, mouth slightly ajar. He vaguely realized, now that Arthur mentioned it, sensing magic did feel itchy. But how could Arthur possibly feel magic? Merlin knew the answer, but it didn't want to make sense in his head.

"Don't tell me you can't feel it. I know you have to be feeling it too."

"I, uh, didn't think you would be able to feel it." Merlin almost slapped himself. He shouldn't have said that. So far they had each felt the other's every discomfort. Arthur would have no reason to think anything uncomfortable could be exempted from the connection spell. Merlin, however, had assumed that since Arthur didn't have magic, none of the magical sensations would crossover.

Arthur stared in confused scrutiny, his eyebrows dipping down his nose. "You mean to tell me," he finally spoke, "that this itching is _normal_ to you?"

"Yes. No," Merlin backpeddled. A good story wasn't immediately presenting itself. "Not exactly." He paused, taking a moment to confirm to himself the lie he was about to use. "You see, I have a rare blood condition."

"_A rare blood condition_?" Arthur repeated.

"It's completely harmless," Merlin assured quickly. "It just... causes a bit of discomfort."

Arthur looked aside, giving a moment for thought. _Just accept the story,_ Merlin thought.

"Is there a reason it's more concentrated on this side?" Arthur asked, pointing to left.

Merlin immediately glanced down at the left side of his body. The magical pulse wasn't coming from that direction. If Arthur was sensing magic through Merlin, then why was he saying that the _itchy blood_ was coming from the left, the opposite direction? Oh. Merlin then realized that Arthur wasn't suddenly able to feel magic. He was only able to feel the discomfort that it entailed. Merlin and Arthur were each feeling concentrated _itchy blood_ on the right sides of their bodies. However, since they were facing one another, the sensation would appear to come from opposite directions.

Taking notice of Arthur's impatient almost-glare, Merlin answered, "No idea."

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><p>Thankfully, Arthur was willing to let up a little on having Merlin babysat that night. Sort of. Merlin still had guards, but at least they were posted outside of Gaius's chambers instead of inside Merlin's room. Arthur said that he was willing to let Merlin sleep in peace as long as he didn't put a toe out of line.<p>

Never before had sneaking out sounded so appealing. Not only did Merlin have a good reason for going covert tonight—the magical pulses were still vibrating his blood—but he also wanted to leave in order to spite Arthur. The idea of leaving the castle and returning without the prat's knowledge gave Merlin a slight thrill.

The perfect image was only cracked by one detail: Merlin's life was now far too tightly attached to Arthur's life. Investigating whatever was causing the flood of magical energy was potentially dangerous. On one hand, Merlin thought it best he figure out how to sever the bonding enchantment first. On the other, he couldn't be sure just how serious the consequences of leaving unattended the source of the "itching blood" were without investigation.

After much uneasy contemplation, poking at dinner, and discussion at Gaius's urging, Merlin settled on postponing his reconnaissance. He would first break the enchantment which was now making Merlin rudely aware that Arthur had bashed his shin into something. The warlock dutifully studied his magic book. Having researched to the point of exhaustion the night before, he had already ruled out a sizable portion of the spells. Merlin was certain they weren't dealing with each other's emotions, seeing what the other was seeing, nor inheriting one another's skills and abilities.

Inconveniently, he couldn't easily dismiss many of the possibilities on account of the ambiguous phrasings. One spell mentioned a side effect of a "mild increase in earwax production." Exactly how _mild_ was mild? Was this "mild increase" even noticeable, or was the author making the predicament of this spell sound more gentle than it really was? Merlin didn't even keep track of how much earwax he normally produced to begin with! Short of asking Arthur if he had noticed a change in his ears, Merlin couldn't think of a way to rule out the possibility of the spell.

To make matters worse, Merlin couldn't just test out the counter-curses until he found the right one. Many of the consequences for choosing incorrectly were undesirable to say the least: madness, death, or—in the case of the earwax spell—earwax spilling profusely out of their ears for the rest of their lives.

Like he had the night before, the warlock fell asleep on his book.

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><p>Gaius hadn't been home since that morning. A recent breakout of measles had held his attention throughout the day. Now, Gaius intended on replenishing his supplies and then finding Merlin. The boy had been awake for scarcely a minute that morning before rushing out the door. He had elatedly proclaimed that he could break the connection between him and Arthur. In his excitement he wouldn't give Gaius any details before running off.<p>

The old physician pushed open his chamber door and doddered in. To his surprise, he saw a mess. A greater and different mess than he was accustomed to. A mattress—_Merlin's mattress?_—was on the floor with one end covering the first few steps leading to Merlin's room. Gaius moved closer to the stairs. A blanket and some clothes and herbs were strewn all over the steps. The blanket and clothes were definitely Merlin's.

"Merlin?" Gaius called.

In response, a soft moan emitted from the upstairs.

Gaius with difficulty pushed the mattress aside. He called for Merlin again. This time he wasn't answered. He apprehended the blocked up stairs before making his way up. His old, creaky bones made clambering around the obstacles arduous. When he finally reached the top and opened the door, he almost fell backward.

In the middle of the floor Merlin was shirtless and curled into a fetal position. A pillow was pinned around his head by the floor and one hand. His other hand clamped his nose shut. The mattress and the herbs which normally adorned his room were gone. And the wardrobe was wide open and empty.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed. "Are you alright!"

"Urgh," Merlin moaned. "Not so loud."

"What's wrong?" Gaius lowered his voice, but not by much.

Merlin shifted his head to look at Gaius. "You need a bath," he mumbled.

"Merlin!" Gaius was shocked and slightly affronted.

"Sorry," Merlin whispered. "I didn't mean to. It's just that everyone needs a bath. Every_thing_ needs a bath. Soap needs a bath." Merlin curled tighter. "I need a bath. Arthur needs a bath. Actually, Arthur _really_ needs a bath. Do you know how repulsive he smells? I think his stench might rival the trolls."

"Merlin," Gaius cut across the unhelpful ramblings, "what happened?"

"Oh, that."

"Yes."

"Ah, I, uh," Merlin grimaced. "It was an accident."

"What did you do?" Gaius asked firmly.

"Made it so I can hear and smell more... things."

"You heightened your senses?"

"And Arthur's."

Gaius felt his jaw drop. "Merlin!" Gaius bellowed. Merlin winced. The old man lowered his voice as he continued, "What were you thinking? Do you realize how dangerous what you have done is?"

"I was trying to take that spell off," the pathetic looking warlock explained. "And this is the consequence of being wrong. It didn't sound so bad when I was reading about it. Better senses for a week... I don't think I could take a whole week of this, Gaius."

"What spell did you use? Perhaps there's an antidote. And if there isn't, you might deserve of week of this anyway," the physician admonished. "I'm not sure Arthur does, but you certainly do."

"There's an antidote," Merlin assured. "I tried to make it, but... Gaius, it smelled so bad. I nearly fainted."

Gaius sighed, "Show me where to find it."

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><p><strong>We swear that Merlin's mistake has importance. It's not just to drag the story out. We needed a segue before the plot could progress. It'll make sense.<strong>

**Please review. Like? Dislike? Confused? Constructive criticism is always welcome.**


	6. Cure and Escape

**'Ello, chaps! We know, we're horrible people who can't be consistent about updates. We hope you're still enjoying the story though!**

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><p>If the item could be relocated to the opposite side of his chambers, Arthur relocated it there. He couldn't understand it. One minute he had been eating breakfast, and then the next minute everything had gone horribly wrong. Another bite of food had been on its way to his mouth when everything started smelling completely foul. His ears had hurt when he dropped his food in shock. The whole situation was a nightmare. Every smell churned his stomach, and every sound seemed to thrash his head. It seemed like hours since he had sent Merlin away. Arthur had been able to smell his servant's odor from across the room. As he had sent Merlin out, Arthur had called off "the babysitters." The prince didn't think that he would be able to handle side effects of their presence, indirectly or not. The way they clanked and stank was just too much. Even with a door acting as a barrier.<p>

Now Arthur was standing shirtless, trying very hard not to curl up in a ball. His head ached more every time the guards passed his chambers. It took all of Arthur's will not to call those guards off duty too. No one had the right be so loud or smelly for that matter. His own heart was being loud enough without their contribution to the din. And the people who were approaching were being fairly inconsiderate as well. At least they weren't clanking, but Arthur wished they would go walk somewhere else. He could hear one of them moaning all the way through the corridor. If Arthur didn't know better he would've been convinced that the moaning voice was Merlin's. It was irritating.

Arthur blanched and suddenly bent over in pain as a loud rap sounded from his door.

"What are you doing, Gaius?" Merlin's voice hissed. The loud scrape of the door rang through the room and in Arthur's head.

Arthur moaned, "_Mer_lin, what are you doing back? I thought I told you to _get out_."

"Sire," Gaius cut in, "I have a remedy for your—affliction."

Arthur perked up slightly, "Which one?"

"The noises and the—bad smells," Gaius replied, sounding slightly cautious. He handed Arthur and Merlin each an identical vial of something that looked and smelled quite vile. "I'm going to need you both to drink it at the same time."

"Why?" Merlin and Arthur asked in unison. They were thinking the same thing. That stuff smelled putrid. Trying to drink it would certainly make them gag. One rebelling stomach would be bad enough. How would they manage the sensation of two lurching bellies?

"There is a small chance that, if you don't take it at the same time, it won't work," Gaius replied reasonably. "Obviously, if you want to take it one at a time, that's fine. But it just... Might not work."

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other. "We're going to take at the same time," Arthur said commandingly. "You better keep that stuff down." He was glaring at Merlin.

"Likewise," Merlin replied defensively. He breathed deeply. "On the count of three," Merlin suggested. "One, two..." Merlin swallowed, trying to ease the nausea before calling last number. "Three."

Arthur and Merlin plugged their noses and tipped the potion into their mouths. They gagged several times before finally downing the bottles' contents.

"I don't feel much different," Merlin complained after they had gotten that nasty potion down their gullets. "Though I do feel light headed. Arthur do you feel light headed?"

Arthur's eyebrows drew together. Did Merlin really just ask such a stupid question? Of course he felt light headed. "You..." Being light headed was getting the way of expressing annoyance to that idiot. Idiot? That would work. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? "Idiot!"

"Sire," Gaius interrupted, "I think you need to rest." Gaius grabbed Merlin's arm and led the servant out.

After they left, Arthur walked tentatively to his smelly bed. It didn't stink as much as it used to, but it was still unpleasant. He sank onto the bed. Slowly, the bad smells and sounds were abating. Finally, sleep overtook him.

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><p>After being lead to his room by Gaius, Merlin dozed a little. As he drifted in and out of consciousness something occurred to him. Arthur had called off the unwanted babysitters. Merlin's eyes popped open. He could sneak out. With any luck, it wouldn't occur to Arthur that he had left Merlin a window of opportunity. He needed to investigate the magic that was still pulsating through Camelot. First, he needed to make sure that Arhtur hadn't reassigned the knights to keep an eye on him. Second, he needed to disguise himself. It wouldn't do if he never made it out of the citadel. Or miss a chance to wheedle out information because his assailants attacked him again. He'd rather not get spotted at all, but perhaps if he was eighty years old that wouldn't matter. Of course he'd have to shave off the beard and crop that hair that would most certainly come as a result of the spell. That was unless he wanted to set the warning bells off and lead every knight in Camelot on a merry chase. He really didn't have time for that.<p>

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><p>Merlin, now an eighty year-old man, hobbled through the forest. His hair was unevenly cut short, as was his beard. He knew the uneven hair and stubble looked silly, but he didn't care. Looks obviously weren't first priority anyway if was choosing to be old. The point was to be disguised. Besides, he didn't even intend on being seen. He had donned a cloak just in case anyone would still recognize him as "Dragoon."<p>

The magic pulsed harder and stronger. His whole body vibrated, tingled, and itched. All of it was more concentrated in the front of his body, in the direction he was going. He was getting close.

Merlin treaded as lightly as he could because there were probably unfriendly sorcerers around. Being seen first, before he got a glimpse of the enemy, would dangerous. Probably fatal. Were he younger, he would have had a grace that all his friends would have considered uncharacteristic. But now, as an old man, his body complained. It refused to be quite as helpful. Every step rustled too loudly, as if the creaking bones weren't enough.

He heard voices. Merlin crouched down. He began to move carefully from one foliage cover to the next until he saw a small group of people. In the midst of them was an amphora that almost reached the height of the woman who standing over it. Whatever spell was causing the disturbance was coming from that earthenware.

Suddenly, flames burst into life a few yards to the right of the amphora.

"Showing off again, aren't you, Darby?" An unnaturally pale woman said.

The man, Darby, who had started the fire had his back to Merlin. "By the gods, Ruby," he flared, "I was just starting a fire!"

"Oh, but you had to be all showy about it," Ruby persisted. "You're just after," her voice turned to a loud whisper, "_attention_."

"What _attention_ could I possibly be after?"

"Oh, you know what," Ruby spat.

Merlin pulled his eyes away from the squabblers to look at their companions. The woman by the large pot stared exasperatedly at the quarrel. Another man simply ignored the ridiculous argument and nailed boards onto a large, incomplete crate. Even from a distance Merlin could see focus lines creasing into the man's face.

"Fine!" Darby threw his hands exaggeratedly high into the air. "Fine, I thought you wanted a hot meal. I'm sorry, let me fix my mistake." He waved his hand in front of him while shouting an incantation. The fire disappeared, leaving half-charred logs.

Ruby laughed forcefully, "I'm not stupid. You now want to play the victim, but still show off at the same time."

"There's no one watching. Why should I not use the gift I have?"

The other woman stepped into the fray. "That's enough!" She shouted. "The next person who speaks gets to spend the rest of their life in the pot."

Ruby glared at the woman and Darby in turn before huffing and walking off. The woman inclined her head to Darby and returned to the amphora. Darby then restarted the fire.

"Hello," a voice sounded from behind the spy.

Merlin reflexively turned around. He stared up a short sword and into the face of a woman. She had strikingly blonde hair and a scar that extended from her mouth to her hairline. Her cheek had to have been ripped open and sewn back together.

"It's seems as though you've lived too long, old man," she said in a frighteningly calm manner.

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><p><strong>You know you want to review. <em>It'll make us feel more guilty about our inconsistency.<em> And don't feel guilty about making us feel guilty. We love reviews.**


	7. Aged and Bald

**Aha! Within a week! _That's a record._ Thank you, everyone, for the feedback!**

**_Heads up,__ before anyone protests, Ashley was originally a boy's name._**

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><p>"Please don't stab me," Merlin said. It wasn't a plead. It was a statement.<p>

Amusement pulled the sides of the woman's scarred, uneven lips. "And why should I do that?"

"_Egc misse_!" Merlin muttered.

The short sword flew out of the woman's hand. The shocked expression on her face quickly shifted into suspicion and intrigue.

"I would rather not kill my own kind," Merlin stated. He couldn't help but smile a bit.

"I agree. But why were you spying on us?" she asked.

"I like knowing about people before asking their hospitality. I'm just a poor traveler, and not everyone is kind."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. She carefully apprehended him before answering, "Alright, old man, come and have some hospitality." She retrieved her blade and sheathed it. Striding straight into the encampment, she announced, "Everyone, we have a guest. This old sorcerer needs some food and rest."

Merlin heaved himself to his feet. He saw some sighs of annoyance. The woman standing by the amphora was shaking her head at the scarred woman. The man with the crate rolled his eyes. Each person showed some sign of disapproval before turning full attention to the old man who was clambering out of the underbrush. It took Merlin a moment to realize that the disapproval was probably more a result of the woman's horrible rhyme rather than of his presence.

Merlin stood before them, brushed himself off, and stretched a little. Mid-stretch he involuntarily froze for a split second and took a sharp breath. Now that Darby had turned around, Merlin realized that he had seen the man before. Darby was the one who had stabbed Merlin in the stables. Merlin quickly reminded himself that he wouldn't be recognizable and tried to make his behavior look natural. He dropped his arms. Time to get into the confidence of the enemy.

"Well," he said, "I guess it's time for introductions." He looked at his hosts expectantly, and they stared back in surprise.

The scarred woman spoke up, "I am Rose. This is Ashley," she indicated the man who was kneeling by the crate. "Finley," Rose pointed at the woman who seemed very concerned about the amphora. "And I believe you've already overheard their names, but this is Darby and Ruby." Darby nodded. Ruby was folding her arms and standing the farthest away, on the other side of the fire. For the first time, Merlin noticed that Ruby's face, not the rest of her body, was unnaturally pale.

"Pleasure," Merlin responded good-naturedly.

"And you are?" Rose asked.

"Oh, I am..." Merlin hesitated. He couldn't go by Dragoon. He wanted that name to remain only attached to his long-bearded identity. He needed a reasonable sounding name that didn't belong to any of his close friends. His mind went to the last person he bought vegetables from. That guy who was always covered in blisters, what was his name? "Parsnip," Merlin blurted when the man's name wouldn't surface.

"_Parsnip_?" Ashley repeated.

"Yes, Parsnip," Merlin affirmed with a maniacal look. "My mother had interesting taste. No pun intended."

Ashley tried to hide amusement underneath a cough. He turned back to his business of nailing a crate together.

"Well, Parsnip," Rose said shortly, "you can have food when it is ready." She glanced at Darby who took the hint to start cooking.

"How generous," Merlin smiled. "What is that?" He pointed to the amphora. "It's pulsing."

"That is the fall of Camelot," Ruby answered proudly. She moved to stand by it as if she were showing off a masterpiece.

"Really? It's very small," Merlin commented.

"Exactly," Ruby said quickly and exaggeratedly. There was enough of a pause before her next words that Merlin knew she hadn't thought before speaking. She was making up an explanation for her automatic, thoughtless acceptance. "They would never expect so much from something so small."

Finley murmured something. Whatever her words were, her face said that they weren't attached to a happy thought.

"Well, what exactly does it do?" Merlin questioned further. He stepped closer to the "fall of Camelot."

"Let's just say you don't want to be near Camelot a week from now. Now, make yourself comfortable," Rose said with a harsh edge. "Ruby, go help your husband." Not waiting to see her orders followed, she walked behind the pot to where some tents sat connected by clothes lines.

Ruby rolled her eyes and stiffly joined Darby by the fire. Over the fire turned a spit laden with skinned squirrels. Merlin followed Ruby. He might as well sit. It would relieve some of the aching.

"Mm, I just love bushy-tailed rats," Merlin teased to stimulate conversation.

Darby chuckled.

Ruby, however, responded petulantly, "And this is how you show gratitude for our hospitality?"

"I said that I loved bushy-tailed rats," Merlin explained, feigning innocence. "You are giving me one of my favorite treats."

Ruby glared. Her face being several shades whiter than the rest of her skin stole every ounce seriousness from her expression. Instead of looking dangerous, she was comical. How much powder was caked onto her face?

Merlin turned as he heard Finley say something. She was painting symbols onto the amphora while chanting. Magic pulsed even harder out of the pot. Merlin began to push himself up. She wasn't very loud, and he wanted to hear the incantation. To his dismay, she finished before he could convince his bones to let him up. The magical pulse calmed to the strength it had a moment ago.

"What was that?" Merlin asked.

"An enchantment," Finley said without looking at him. She carefully wrapped the paintbrush in a rag and corked a small bottle. She placed the items by the amphora and then joined the group by the fire. She sat at the farthest possible point away from both Merlin and the couple.

"How does this enchantment work?" Merlin pressed. "How will a pot finally bring down Camelot?"

"Sitting inside the city will do," Rose answered. Merlin looked up to see her walking toward them. At that moment he noticed, with her hair now pulled back, that a piece of her ear was missing above the scar.

"Who's bringing it in?" Ruby asked.

Rose gave an annoyed look before answering, "Ashley and Darby can do that."

"No, I can't," Darby objected. "I stole the prince's shirt and stabbed his manservant. They'll recognize me."

"You stole the prince's shirt?" Merlin interjected. So he didn't lose it because of carelessness!

"Yes."

"What did you do that for?" When Merlin saw the quizzical looks, he realized how stupid he was being by showing such outrage over shirt thievery. "It just seems like a waste of time," he mended. "But since you have it anyway, can I see it?" he asked even though he knew that the man didn't have the shirt anymore.

Darby looked even more taken aback. "No."

"Anyway," Ruby interrupted, "Darby you might need to take it in. The women can't exactly take it in. That would look odd."

"I could take it in," Merlin offered. "I'm going to Camelot anyway."

"That won't be necessary," Rose assured.

"Well, what are we doing then?" Ruby asked.

"Right now, we are making sure those squirrels don't burn."

* * *

><p>When Arthur awoke his blood itched fiercely. And he ached—everywhere. What did that buffoon Merlin do this time? At least there were no more loud noises. That meant it wouldn't be painful to put some knights back on babysitting duty. It was annoying to his servant but a necessary precaution. That man was completely defenseless. Besides, Merlin's reaction to having guards on him was rather amusing.<p>

As Arthur pulled himself out of the bed every joint in his body protested. He tried to stand up straight. However, he found standing straight to be very arduous. Arthur could bet that this aching was Merlin's fault.

Arthur hurried to the doors. He had only been a few yards from the exit, but the very short journey left him slightly winded. Arthur placed his hand on the door. He drew his arm back in alarm. For some reason, his hand looked like it belonged to someone else. It was now wrinkled and shriveled. His breathing became uneven with panic. The prince stared at his hands and then touched his face. The skin beneath his fingers was rough and heavily creased. He slid his hands over his scalp. His hair was gone. Quickly, Arthur pulled a key off his belt and locked the door. This had to be a dream. A sick and twisted dream. The prince hobbled back across the room. Maybe if he just looked at his reflection everything would be resolved. He found a mirror and gaped at it. The reflection was just like his hand, not his own. The man staring back was very old and very bald.

Arthur grunted in frustration. Now, he couldn't risk leaving his room or allowing anyone to enter. He could be mistaken for an intruder sneaking around his own chambers. What if no one believed that he was Arthur? He could be put on trial for kidnapping or murdering himself. He might not even make it to trial. He could get run through by one of his own knights. Arthur made his way to a chair and sank into it. He was helpless. No knight would obey any of his commands. None of them would believe that he was Prince Arthur Pendragon. He was trapped. He was a dottering old man. Even the most pathetic of his knights could take him on in this state. It was humiliating.

He was going to drop dead any minute now. Merlin was romping around right now, begging to get stabbed. Maybe Merlin wasn't feeling good enough to leave his chambers—Arthur doubted that.

* * *

><p>After a hearty dinner of roasted squirrels, Merlin could see that his welcome in the sorcerer camp was worn out. Every word Rose said indicated that she didn't like him. Throughout the meal, whenever Merlin thought he could wheedle out extra information she found a terse way to shut everyone up. Being that he was unwelcome and in need of returning to Camelot, he left. But, of course, he would return later. He had to.<p>

Arthur was probably angry. He had certainly noticed Merlin's absence by now. Merlin would think of an excuse though. He always did.

Upon getting to Gaius's chambers he told his guardian that he had a lot of information to discuss. Then he quickly quaffed the potion to restore his youth. The potion started to work for a few seconds. His skin started to smooth itself out, and then it wrinkled back up. He stayed old. The potion wasn't working.

"Gaius!" Merlin yelped. He began to mutter, "No, no, no."

If the potion wasn't working then... No, Arthur couldn't be old too.

* * *

><p>Arthur sat for several hours trying to figure a way out of this situation. Right now, his blood was getting less and less itchy. He needed to make a point to ask Gaius if he really did know about Merlin's "rare blood condition."<p>

A loud rap sounded at the door, interrupting his revery. He couldn't leave; he would be putting both his life and Merlin's in jeopardy. He needed an excuse. He needed to say something. No, he didn't need to say anything. Because if he didn't say anything, then whoever was banging on the door would think that he wasn't in and go away.

"Princess," Gwaine's voice wafted in. "I know you're in there."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of all the knights to be sent to fetch him it had to be Gwaine. Arthur stopped himself from retorting. Gwaine was bluffing. The knight most certainly did not know where the crown prince of Camelot was. Silence was Arthur's best weapon.

"You're a half an hour late to whatever it is that you do in the council chambers." Gwaine rattled at the door handle.

On the other hand, if he kept quiet they might eventually resort to breaking down his door in panic. That might be worse than being caught leaving his chambers. "Tell them that the meeting is canceled," Arthur rasped.

"Oh, stop primping and let's go."

"Just go away, Gwaine."

"I can't do that. I was told to go fetch you. How could I face anyone if I let them down like that?" Gwaine jibed.

"Last I checked, a few rounds of mead was your answer to everything," Arthur retorted. "You know where the tavern is."

"That's not fair. Besides, everyone in the council chambers was in a bit of a panic."

"Tell them I'm fine, and I'm just... indisposed. And I won't make to the council chambers. Find Merlin and make sure someone's keeping an eye on him. Then discreetly tell Gaius to come here."

Gwaine rattled the door handle. "Arthur, open the door." The knight's voice was now filled with anxiety. Arthur had not expected this reaction.

"No."

"You started to bleeding like mad a few days ago."

"Do as I say!" Arthur commanded.

"Who are you?" Gwaine asked randomly.

Startled by Gwaine's outburst and without thinking Arthur replied, "I'm the prince."

"Not now, Gwaine," Merlin's voice snapped. "Move out of my way."

"Not a chance," Gwaine said. "How do you know my name?" What was wrong with Gwaine? That was definitely Merlin's voice, even if it was a bit raspy.

"Merlin, go get Gaius," Arthur called.

"Merlin's not out here," Gwaine growled. "Just some strange old codger trying to break into your chambers."

Arthur stood up. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Merlin was now an old man too. "Gwaine, I think the old man _is _Merlin."

"Arthur, what gives you that idea?" Gwaine yelled.

"Later," Arthur dismissed. "Merlin, go get Gaius."

"Gaius is already on his way," Merlin replied

"I should've known. All right, I'm letting you in. Gwaine, do not run me through." Arthur cautioned.

* * *

><p>Merlin really wished that Gwaine would put the sword down. They had already drawn the attention of one passerby. Merlin was just waiting for a patrol to march down the hall and make matters worse.<p>

"Is there anyone out there?" Arthur asked through the door.

"Just me and the old man," Gwaine replied.

The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing Arthur. Both Gwaine's sword and jaw dropped. Merlin had to hold back uproarious laughter. He couldn't stop himself from sniggering though. He knew to expect an old man, but not a bald old man. He couldn't help but think of Uther's displeasure at being bald.

"Remember, Gwaine, don't run me through," Arthur reminded sternly.

* * *

><p><strong>That was a little longer than usual. Hopefully we didn't bore any of you out. Please review!<strong>


	8. Q & A

**We know. We know. We've sinned. It's been forever since the last update. Excuse list: Homework, tests, _MARRIAGE_, _honeymoon_, left for family beach trip immediately upon writing partner coming home from honeymoon, more homework, _finals_, remedying us and others from going through Doctor Who withdrawals, etc. (We know that last excuse is pathetic, but our brothers are very persuasive. We only watch the episodes as a group. See the problem?)**

***RECAP!* Merlin aged himself and cut his hair. He followed the disturbance in the force. (_You had to make a Star Wars reference, didn't you?_ Yep!) He found a camp full of plotting sorcerers. Apparently, Darby (one of the sorcerers) stole one of Arthur's shirts and returned it. _Then Merlin came back. He discovered that the aging antidote wouldn't do its job._ Therefore, Arthur must also be old. Gwaine was trying get Arthur out of his room when Merlin showed up to half-explain the situation. Arthur has just opened his door.**

**_If you need anymore details, ask or reread._  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Gwaine's eyes narrowed as he lifted his sword higher again. "What the bloody h- is going on?"<p>

Instead of answering the question Arthur gave an order, "Get in here."

Both Gwaine and Merlin marched into Arthur's chambers. Once they were all in, Arthur pulled out his key and locked the door again. He turned toward the other two men and squinted.

"_Mer_lin, is it my old age or do you look strangely like Dragoon?" Arthur remarked.

"It's your old age," Merlin replied, trying not betray any internal panic. "I can't see much of anything myself." He grinned nervously.

A flicker of confusion passed briefly over Arthur's face. "Did you get attacked?"

"Ah... No."

"Then how do you explain this?"

"Gaius thinks it's a side affect of the enchantment." Then Merlin added to the lie, "And he thinks it might happen again."

"What enchantment?" Gwaine demanded. "What's going on?"

Merlin and Arthur quickly explained how they were being forced to experience each other's physical discomfort.

"So you're saying that if I do this..." Gwaine poked Merlin in the ribs.

"Ouch." Merlin protested. Arthur shifted slightly and rolled his eyes.

"Arthur feels it," Gwaine said.

"Yes, Gwaine, that is exactly what we're saying," Arthur said irately. "And if you jab me Merlin will get the pleasure your prodding."

Before Gwaine could reply a knock on the door sounded.

"Who is it?" Arthur called.

"Gaius, my lord," Gaius's voice called from behind the door.

Arthur unlocked and opened the door. The old physician entered the chambers.

"Sire, I can make a cure but it will take time," Gaius informed.

"How much time, exactly?" Arthur asked tersely.

"I could have it ready by morning, sire."

"I told Arthur what you told me," Merlin remarked, trying to sound casual.

"Sorry?" Gaius replied, giving Merlin a reproachful look.

"About how this could happen again... Without warning."

"Is that true?" Arthur asked.

Gaius arched his eyebrow at Merlin. "I'm afraid so," Gaius said tersely.

* * *

><p>Merlin and Gaius went back to their chambers. Over dinner Merlin began talking about the sorcerers he had found.<p>

"Do you remember when I lost one of Arthur's shirts? I don't think I lost it," Merlin said. "I think it was stolen and then returned." He told Gaius what Darby had said in the sorcerers' camp.

"You think they put a spell on Arthur's shirt," Gaius said leaning in.

Merlin nodded.

"Do you know which shirt it was?" Gaius asked furtively.

"I— know what color it is."

* * *

><p>The next morning Gaius had the potion ready. As soon as they were young again Arthur rearranged the babysitting situation. Merlin was beginning to regret making Arthur think that they could spontaneously grow old at any moment. Arthur was tightening security for both of them. Arthur was going to keep public appearances to a minimum, but not to the point of creating alarm. He even stooped to giving himself a babysitter. In doing so, Arthur had felt compelled to let more knights in on their predicament, namely Leon, Lancelot, Elyan, and Percival. Merlin didn't mind <em>that<em>. What Merlin did mind was Arthur's creative capacity to impose even more restricting precautions on him for his "own good."

"Arthur, this is madness. It's blazing hot. I will not wear a cloak when going—anywhere," Merlin complained.

"Be reasonable, Merlin. If you turn into an old man in front of someone they might think you're a sorcerer," Arthur countered.

"We could do what you plan to do. Both me and my babysitter could get outraged and yell something about sorcerers."

"So you agree to stay with your 'babysitter' from now on?"

Merlin almost said that he didn't mean that. He glared in annoyance. There was no escape. "Yes," Merlin lied. Half-lied more like. He would be good during chore time. Anything to avoid wearing a cloak during the blazing heat of the day.

* * *

><p>Arthur couldn't just wait around for Gaius to find something. So he asked various persons what they knew about detecting curses and enchantments, and possibly undoing them. He dismissed many of the theories as preposterous. As preposterous as they were, they were harmless—for the most part. Some Arthur would not be doing under <em>any <em>circumstances. There was no way that anyone would persuade him that clutching a fist full of bezoars while running naked through the forest during a full moon was a good idea. What he could stoop to was climbing under his bed and looking for suspicious carvings.

Arthur looked about his chambers. Merlin was no where to be seen. Good. He wouldn't have to explain himself. Well, he didn't have to explain himself to Merlin anyway. Arthur slid himself under the bed.

The underside of his bed was fairly unexciting. The only thing under there was his chest filled with gold. As Arthur was about to crawl out his door opened. Merlin walked in. Arthur really didn't want to asked why he was under his bed. Maybe he could wait until Merlin left. Of course that might take a while...  
>But judging from the way Merlin was walking he was in a hurry.<p>

Arthur rolled onto his stomach. He bit back a grunt. It had hurt his arm to do it.

Merlin yelped in surprise, stopping him in mid stride. "What did he do this time?" He muttered to himself.

Arthur watched from under the bed as Merlin resolutely went to the wardrobe. Arthur's brows furrowed as Merlin began to pull out clean shirts for no conceivable reason. Merlin was up to something crazy. Compromising position or not, Arthur had to put a stop to this. He pulled himself out from under the bed just as Merlin started to scurry away.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Arthur demanded after he stood.

Merlin spun around, looking panicked. "I thought they might be dirty," he replied too quickly.

"If they're dirty then what were they doing in there?" Arthur indicated to the wardrobe.

"I think I missed some spots?"

"Are you calling me messy?"

"No," Merlin denied unconvincingly. "I'm just saying that—it doesn't hurt to check them. Just in case."

"Ah," Arthur said. "There's no reason you can't check them here. By all means, don't let me stop you."

"Well, the thing is— I thought it would be best if I did it back with Gaius."

"Is Gaius doing laundry now?"

"No!" Merlin tumbled over his words, "I just thought it would be better if I examined them in Gaius's chambers."

"Where any small accident could mean you've ruined my shirts?"

"The lighting is better in there." Merlin tried to walk off.

"_Mer_lin," Arthur said sharply. He was not going to let Merlin off with his usual pathetic lies. Not this time.

Merlin turned back to face Arthur. A wince was creased into the servant's face. "Yes?"

Arthur walked over to his servant, pulled the shirts out of Merlin's hands, and plopped the clothing onto the table. "Sit," he ordered.

Merlin sat down slowly, eying Arthur warily.

"Now check."

Merlin reached out to grab the shirts. Then he withdrew and looked up. "Arthur, how come I didn't see you when I came in?" He asked.

"Well, you don't see much of anything, do you?"

Merlin stared at Arthur for moment before a look of dawning came over the servant's face. "You were under the bed!"

"Why on Earth would I be under the bed?"

"I dunno. You tell me."

"I wasn't under the bed." Arthur would happily take his secret to the grave.

"What were you doing under there?"

"That's none of your business," Arthur slipped.

Merlin's eyes lit up. "I was right. You _were _under the bed. The question is what is the high and mighty Prince Arthur doing under his bed?"

"_Mer_lin, make sure these shirts are clean. Now."

"Arthur, it really would be better if I just take them to—"

Arthur glowered at Merlin. "If you don't tell me why you're so eager to get out of here with my clothes, you'll be checking all of my shirts and pants for signs of your incompetence."

Merlin's jaw twitched in exasperation. "Gaius was wondering if maybe one of the shirts were used as a, um, vessel for the enchantment."

Finally, a straight answer. "He's checking them by color?" Arthur had noticed that all of them were red.

"Ah, ha, no," Merlin laughed nervously. "I mean, yes. He says that some spells are more sensitive to different colors."

Seeing that Arthur was too stunned to speak, Merlin grabbed the shirts and headed off. Arthur was left staring after his lying servant.

* * *

><p>Throughout the shirt examination process Merlin couldn't get himself to do anything but stare uselessly and impatiently. Occasionally when Gaius took a thoughtful pause Merlin would ask, "Anything?"<p>

After sufficiently staring at another shirt, Gaius brought it to his nose. That seemed to be standard procedure. Stare then sniff. This time Gaius stopped to take an extra sniff. A look of recognition of something more than just soap crossed his face.

Merlin, who had been leaning against the table, sat up straighter. "What is it?" He asked eagerly.

"I think I know what it is."

Gaius, shirt in hand, strode to a nearby book. As he flipped to the right page Merlin moved to stand by him.

When he stopped turning pages, Gaius lowered the book. "When you wash Arthur's clothes, you don't happen to use..." Gaius listed off several miscellaneous items. Some of which Merlin had never even heard of.

"No."

Gaius handed the open book to Merlin.

"Oh, no," Merlin grumbled.

* * *

><p><strong>Aaaaaaand... Not making any promises. <strong>_**Except that we'll try****.**_** There is a Star Wars quote about that. _Don't say it, my padawan._**


	9. Understanding and Misunderstanding

**We're here again. Sorry. _Sorry._ Insanity of life, followed by writer's block. _Lucky for you, we were determined to get something out tonight._**

**So, funny story, we originally planned to have something else follow the cliffie. We then realized that we were better off taking a different direction. The problem was that the newly planned situation didn't live up to Merlin's reaction at the end of last chapter. So we had to get creative. _Let us know if it lives up to your expectations._**

**___In case you don't want to go through the last chapter: Merlin was caught trying to abscond with Arthur's shirts. Merlin lied about why he was taking the red shirts and not any other color._ Gaius realized that Arthur's shirt was used as a vessel for the pain-feeling spell. Merlin wasn't happy when was shown the spell and its antidote.**

* * *

><p>Merlin only had to look at the title to know what deep trouble they were in. He stared across the room, his grip on the book slackening. Maybe living with this curse wouldn't be so bad after all. He wasn't sure that risking his sanity was worth avoiding a few extra aches and pains.<p>

"Gaius, are you sure?" Merlin asked. It couldn't hurt to search for some uncertainty.

"I'm afraid so, my boy," Gaius replied. Sadly, he sounded confident in his assessment. Merlin cursed inwardly.

"Well, I can't do it," Merlin said.

"I will make sure the dosage is safe," Gaius said reassuringly.

"Gaius, you can't make it safe! It causes persistent hallucinations!"

"I wouldn't allow you take enough opium for that."

"What?" Merlin stared blankly at Gaius. "Why am I taking opium now?"

"Are you alright?"

"I don't remember there being opium in this recipe." Merlin fought panic. Opium would only make the effects worse! How was he going to tell Arthur that insanity was the only cure? They might as well offer themselves up to the disturbed minds who cursed them, rather than suffer through the antidote. Antidote. What a laughable word to use. The people back at that sorcerer camp had to be laughing at that moment!

"Merlin, I think you're confused." Gaius took the book from Merlin and explained the steps in detail. Arthur and Merlin would take one potion for thirteen days that required no drugs. On the fourteenth day they would take a different potion. Since the final severing of the spell would be excruciatingly painful, they would have to take opium. It was the only painkiller known to not react badly with the potion.

After knowing what the cure actually consisted of, Merlin wondered how he managed to be so confused. What potion was he even confused with?

At that moment the door swung open. A very grumpy Arthur stomped in.

"Merlin!" Arthur barked. "You walked to and from my chambers without an escort. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Gaius made a show of casually putting the magic book aside, making it look like regular medical papers.

"Sorry?" Merlin sounded as though he was looking for a simple appeasement without even sounding apologetic.

"You agreed to go nowhere outside my chambers or Gaius's chambers without guards."

"I'm in Gaius's chambers now."

"But you left!"

"I was in a bit of a rush."

"_Mer_lin!"

"We found a cure. So... It's alright." Merlin smiled.

"A cure to the red shirt spell?" Arthur asked half-skeptically, half-hopefully.

Gaius raised his eyebrow at Merlin as if to say, 'What did you tell him?'

* * *

><p>Arthur could <em>still<em> taste the foul liquid. It was a half an hour later, and several glasses of water later, and he could still taste that disgusting potion. To think he would have twelve more days of drinking that... whatever it was. Arthur didn't want to know what he was being forced to ingest. Hopefully the potion for the final day would be a bit more pleasant.

Two weeks. In two weeks he would be free. Arthur would no longer have to put up with aches that were not his own. No more spontaneous aging. No more itchy blood.

Right now he was particularly excited about losing Merlin's "rare blood condition." Arthur had to concentrate on some paperwork concerning trade routes. What he really wanted to do was scratch his insides. How was Merlin able to so nonchalantly deal with his condition? This seemed normal to him. The servant was somehow able to go on cleaning as though nothing in the world bothered him. How? It was disgusting. There was nothing natural about this. The prince had never felt anything like it. Itchy didn't even fully describe the bizarre sensation. It _pulsed_. He had heard his blood pounding in his ears before, but this wasn't like that. It was as though he could _feel_ the rushing of blood in every part of his body. And a concentration of this feeling moved around his body. And it would feel stronger at some times than at others.

Arthur suddenly realized that he had been absently glaring at Merlin. Arthur looked back down at his papers. He bent over his work, at least giving an impression of redoubled effort.

Then Arthur suddenly looked back up, realization dawning on his face. The itchy blood had a pattern. He watched the way Merlin bustled about the room. The direction, for lack of a better word, of the itchiness was always dependent on where Merlin was facing. The strength of it correlated to where the boy was standing. It was a wonder that Arthur hadn't noticed this before. He began to wonder if Merlin really told Gaius about the itching blood.

It took several minutes before Merlin realized that his master was staring intensely at him.

Concerned, Merlin spoke, "Arthur?"

"Merlin," Arthur spoke slowly and somberly, "I think your blood condition is magical."

Merlin felt the blood drain from his face. How had Arthur figured it out? Merlin could feel his throat going dry. Should he make a run for it? Arthur had gotten up and was walking toward him. Surely Arthur wasn't going to kill himself just to stop a sorcerer. As the prince got nearer, Merlin began to think of every spell he knew. To Merlin's surprise, Arthur clapped his hand onto Merlin's shoulder.

"I know you're scared, old friend," Arthur said seriously, "but Gaius should be able to cure you."

"What? No. Gaius can't fix me," Merlin sputtered.

"Well," Arthur said, trying to sound encouraging, "I'm going to stop whoever did this to you." The prince put his arm down and began to walk away.

"You really don't need to do that." Merlin didn't want Arthur to waste time trying find an imaginary sorcerer unless absolutely necessary.

"No, you're wrong. I have to." Arthur's voice became cold.

"It could be dangerous. Besides, it's only an annoyance."

"How do you know it won't get worse and kill you? Drive you mad?" Arthur demanded angrily. "I know it's about to drive me mad."

Merlin felt himself stiffen. Chasing after imaginary sorcerers it was. Hopefully he could find away around that once he took care of some real sorcerers. He would find out more about that amphora tonight.

* * *

><p><em><strong>We were going to end it elsewhere, but we thought you guys deserved a chapter for being so patient.<strong>_** We wouldn't have finished it tonight if we had ended the chapter where we originally wanted.**

**Yes, Arthur does not yet know that he will doped up on the final day the antidote.**

**What did you think? _Confused? Pleased? Disappointed? Amused?_ Tell us, please!**

**_And for the record, we didn't intend to make a Star Trek joke._ But we did laugh and leave it there. _Oops._**


	10. Drunk and Drugged

**We want to thank everyone for the support. You guys are amazing for sticking with us. 125 reviews and 199 subscribers. Just one more subscriber to break 200. Thank you everyone!**

**Anyway, we noticed something very embarrassing. We forgot to specify the size of the amphora. We know the exact size, but we weren't specific with you all. Sorry. _We said large, but that's a subjective term._ That's taken care of in this chapter.**

* * *

><p>Their voices were hushed over dinner. Merlin and Gaius usually tried to be discreet whenever discussing magical matters anyway. They were being more careful now that two guards, Gwaine and Percival, were positioned directly outside the door.<p>

The physician and his ward whispered about the information they had thus far. They now knew which curse to break. However, from what Merlin could tell in the sorcerer's camp, a new tact was being pursued. Ruby had blabbed that the large amphora was the "fall of Camelot." Neither Merlin nor Gaius had ever heard of a clay pot being a city's doom. Though, considering the power which the pot emanated, Merlin didn't doubt that it could cause a great deal of destruction in some form.

"I need to go back to that camp," Merlin asserted.

"And what do you intend to do?" Gaius asked.

"I need a better look at that pot," Merlin explained. "I need to know what it does."

"Do you think they will let you near it?"

"No," Merlin answered. Merlin could tell that most of the politeness had been icy. Even Ruby, who seemed to like him, probably wouldn't like Merlin's return. Merlin was sure Rose would reprimand Ruby for being so open with a stranger. "I will need to sneak in. Gaius," Merlin carefully considered his next words, "if I don't want to be seen anyway, maybe I won't need to become Parsnip."

"Merlin, if they catch you, they will kill you," Gaius reminded.

"If they catch me looking through their stuff, they'll kill me, regardless of who I am," Merlin countered. Having been old before, he was able to appreciate the agility and energy of his youth. He figured that he would have an easier time sneaking around, and escaping if need be, as a young man.

"They might decide to question a strange old man before killing him."

Merlin admitted to himself that Gaius did have a point. A strange old man was more likely to receive momentary mercy than the man who kept the crown prince alive by simply breathing. Merlin nodded in agreement.

Gaius inclined his head to the door. "Now you just need to leave without being noticed."

Merlin smiled. Oh, he would definitely be noticed on his way out. He knew exactly how to keep Gwaine and Percival from following him out of Camelot.

* * *

><p>Merlin poked his head out of Gaius's chambers. Guards were usually supposed to at least look stoic. These ones looked like buddies casually waiting around even before Merlin surprised them.<p>

"And where do you think you're going?" Gwaine's tone was friendly as it always was. However, his question obviously wasn't mere curiosity. He had a duty to keep Merlin penned in.

"You know that potion Arthur and I had to drink?" Merlin said in a way that indicated he was setting the groundwork to ask a favor. "Well, I can still taste it," he lied. Merlin only had to deal with the wretched aftertaste for two hours. Since Merlin almost never considered himself above complaining, he made sure all five babysitters were aware of the distress. However, none of them knew that the taste had worn off. "Since nothing I've tried seems to have done the trick, I might need something a little _stronger_."

Gwaine's eyes lit up. "You need a drink," he automatically responded. "We should go to the tavern."

"We can't go to the tavern," Percival said shortly. Both Gwaine and Merlin could clearly hear the implication that, not only would Arthur not like it, but also that getting drunk publicly wasn't safe.

Merlin sighed wistfully, "Too bad we don't have anything here."

Just as Merlin hoped, Gwaine offered to pick up some ale and bring it back. And Percival had no problem with it.

Gwaine returned with three jugs of ale. "Here we go," he said. "Now, do I need to get the tankards too, or can Gaius spare a some?"

At that, Merlin invited the knights to drink inside.

They all sat down. After Gaius declined a drink, Gwaine poured the ale for himself, Merlin, and Percival. The knights began draining their glasses, happily closing their eyes as they did so. Merlin's eyes flashed and the amber liquid in his own glass disappeared. When Percival and Gwaine lowered their cups, Merlin pretended to have been enjoying the drink as well.

As this process repeated itself, the conversation become increasingly inane. Before long, Gwaine was singing "Little Brown Jug."

"My wife and I live all alone, In a log hut—"

"No," Merlin objected. He had been feigning intoxication in case his friends remembered anything that happened. He was willing to make a few stupid comments, laugh at lame jokes, and even do a little singing. But Merlin wasn't going to sing_ that _song with a clear head. Maybe he would in the tavern, but not now. Not with Gaius staring at him like that.

"Ah, c'mon, Merlin," Gwaine gave a friendly nudge.

"You don't have a wife," Merlin said with an artificial slur.

"That's not the point," Gwaine said boisterously. "It's the song spirit!"

"The spirit of no wives." Merlin frowned at his empty his cup, creating the picture of total dejection. "I think that calls for another drink."

"Yes, more drinks," Gwaine agreed. "And more wives!"

Percival cheered. Merlin had barely any time to be mortified before both knights began singing.

Merlin wordlessly reached for the jug and began pouring the next round. Seeing that the last drops didn't even fill one glass, he grabbed the second container. They had been carousing for long enough, Merlin decided. He pulled out the cork and added a drug to the liquid. The knights were too busy with singing, "Ha, ha, ha, he, he, he," to notice. Merlin filled the cups with drugged ale and waited for Percival and Gwaine to finish singing.

While simply drugging the first round would have been much faster, the knights would certainly realize what Merlin had done. They would be outraged in the morning. However, if they could remember having at least a few rounds, they would think they had drunk themselves to sleep. Merlin had decided that avoiding his friends' rightful fury was worth listening to what is only enjoyable to inebriated minds.

Finally, Percival and Gwaine stopped serenading the jug long enough to down their drinks. Barely a moment after lowering their cups, the knights passed out.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, partly to the knights and partly to Gaius.

* * *

><p>Billowy cloak in place, Merlin snuck out of Camelot. After traveling a little way into the forest, he aged himself and cut the resulting hair.<p>

When Merlin neared the camp he crouched down to a view through the brush. He was careful to check over his shoulder from time to time in case Rose was awake. He wasn't going to count on not being automatically skewered in the back if she caught him sneaking around again. Surveying the camp, Merlin saw Ruby over by a low fire. She looked as though she was keeping watch. No one else was in sight. They were likely in their tents.

Merlin looked at the trees on the other side of the small clearing. Gold filled his eyes for a moment. Influenced by magic, the underbrush across the way rustled. Ruby automatically spun around to look for the source of movement. Not seeing anything right off, she wandered away to investigate.

Once Ruby was out of sight, Merlin cautiously moved toward the amphora. He saw that Ashley must have finished building that crate. It was sized perfectly to fit the pot. The crate must be how they intended to go unnoticed while porting the massive thing. The fact that it reached the top of Merlin's chest was still baffling to the warlock. These people were displaying a huge, magical pot in the middle of the forest. And with only Ruby as protection.

Merlin got close to the amphora, took a quick look around, and started inspecting the writing. He wished he had brought something to write on; he would have liked to copy down the symbols. Since he didn't have that as an option, Merlin did his best to memorize every detail on the amphora. It was difficult, as he couldn't see any pattern to the markings. Everything looked random. He started step around the pot.

Then his foot knocked against something. He jumped slightly, pulling his foot away. Merlin looked down to see a sleeping figure stir. Fortunately, whoever it was didn't wake. Merlin let out the breath he had involuntarily sucked in. Then he wondered why someone was sleeping right by the amphora when there were tents nearby. Merlin crouched. It was Finley. Why was Finley right here? He shuffled around her. Beside her was a bottle of paint and a paintbrush.

And a book.

It was sticking out of a pack, probably carelessly shoved in. Merlin slid the book out of the bag and brought it to eye level. A magic book. A quick glance through a few of the pages, even though he couldn't read anything in the dim light, told him that this book was very different from his own. The details about the amphora had to be in the pages he was holding.

Excitedly, Merlin tucked the book under his arm. This was what he needed. He quickly but quietly snuck back out of the camp. He was taking his booty straight back to Gaius.

As Merlin got farther, he walked faster and less carefully. The danger of being caught had eased.

Then, suddenly, something knocked Merlin off his feet. He flew forward with just enough force that he knew he hadn't tripped.

He had been followed.

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><p><strong>BTW we know very little about how much drinking is required for each level of intoxication. We've never been drunk, and we aren't generally around people while they're drinking.<strong>

**_Review. Because it's my birthday. What do I want for my birthday? I want to know what you thought of the chapter._  
><strong>


	11. Trees and Waking

**Okay, peeps, I have some important things to say. Fern and I no longer live anywhere near each other. We're still going to try writing together though. We're partners after all. We've decided that I will be exclusively writing the A/Ns, and Fern will be replying to reviews from now on. (You might get both of us around Christmas time.) However, on the upside, I might be able to write more often now because I have a plan. Whenever my college is having a home football game, I will be writing fanfiction. The chapters will probably always be short, but you will at least be getting them.**

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><p>Merlin's chest slammed into the ground with surprising force. He cried out in pain. He felt as though he couldn't draw breath.<p>

Suddenly, something crashed down beside him. A tree. Merlin tried to calm himself. He only had the wind knocked out of him. His breathing should become normal in a minute. He just needed roll over and see what was happening. Then he could fight back.

Merlin barely twitched before another tree crashed on the other side of him. Then he heard another tree crashed nearby him. Panic swelled inside Merlin. Between the old age and lack of breath, he was having trouble mustering the strength to move at all. Then he heard another tree fall. And another. He finally pushed himself onto his back, even though he still couldn't breathe.

He couldn't see his assailant. However, he saw the next tree fall. And he now realized that his attacker didn't have bad aim. In fact, the aim was frighteningly precise. This person was trying to trap Merlin, not squish him. He tried to relax and catch his breath. He couldn't think.

Finally, as trees began to form a roof few feet above him, Merlin drew breath. He needed to escape. He couldn't let himself get trapped. Merlin inhaled again.

"_Ta__flwch y coed i ffwrdd oddi wrthyf_," Merlin shouted desperately. He launched his hands into the air in front of his face and flung his hands to the sides as if forcefully throwing open curtains. Magic burst from him in a shock wave. Trees shattered and flew in every direction.

Someone screamed. Merlin pulled himself off the ground as quickly as he could and hobbled to the source of the shriek. The long, horrifying scream soon became whimpers and sobs.

Merlin found the that woman who screamed was trapped under a tree. It was Ruby. She, being focused entirely on her pain, didn't notice the old man's presence. Everything from her hips down was crushed. She was going to die even if someone adept at healing magic was present. However, Merlin realized, she was going to die slowly. The tree had to be blocking a great deal of the blood flow. But if the tree was removed, she would quickly bleed out. The very thing that was killing her was also keeping her alive. It could be hours of agony before she finally died.

Even though Ruby didn't mean well to himself or Arthur, Merlin pitied her. Nobody deserved to die like that. He knew that she was going to die either way, but the least he could do was ease the passing. Whispering an incantation, he caused the tree trunk to rise—the abrupt change in pressure causing Ruby to scream again—and then fall nearby.

At that Merlin turned away and headed back to Camelot.

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><p>Finley hadn't slept properly in days. Every hour, day or night, she had to work on the enchantments for the amphora. Sadly, this job couldn't be shared with others. If multiple people worked on the bindings, then they would become poisoned. Therefore, the only assistance Finley could receive was wakeup calls. So, when she had completed the final binding, she had shoved the book aside and collapsed in exhaustion onto the bedroll that was positioned beside the enormous pot.<p>

Being so tired, she didn't notice when something bumped into her leg. Even when a scream rang through the air she simply rolled over, thinking it was part of the dream. Finally, Finley woke to a sharp kick to the stomach. She cried out and automatically curled up in response to the pain.

"Get up," Rose ordered.

Finley glared as she sat up. "What's going on?"

"Ruby's gone."

Finley wanted to say this: _Why does this matter to me?__ Oh, you mean that bimbo? Wait, you're right: she is stupid enough, but not pretty enough, to be classified as a bimbo. Good riddance__ anyway__. Even her husband questioned her purpose in this group. And he's not even a great deal brighter than she is. Just let me go back to sleep._ However, as much as she didn't like to admit it, Finley did realize that Ruby's absence was a serious problem. Ruby was extremely powerful, even if she was dumber than a rock. More importantly, Ruby knew too much. Reluctantly, Finley stood up.

Then a scream filled the air. Finley wasn't sure whether or not to hope that was Ruby. That woman's idiocy and power balanced each other out too evenly.

"Darby and Ashley are already running ahead," Rose said.

"Then why did you wake me up?" Finley asked crossly.

"If you're too stupid to figure it out, then go back to sleep."

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><p>Arthur lurched up with a cry of pain. He struggled to breathe. Merlin must have somehow gotten the wind knocked out of him. The prince really hoped that his servant had only clumsily fallen down something.<p>

Grunting and struggling to breathe, Arthur forced himself out of bed and landed flat on the floor. His body ached from when he had aged spontaneously. He wasn't sure when they had aged. All Arthur knew was that, the last time he woke up all the way, he was old and bald. The prince had decided that he would deal with it in the morning. Now he was regretting that decision.

Arthur stood after finally drawing breath. He hurried into the corridors. Midway to Gaius's chambers, Arthur was forced to stop. He could continue if he needed to. However, judging by how his aching back, feet, and knees were shooting knives into him, Merlin was running. If Merlin was running, then the idiot was probably in danger. Which meant Arthur shouldn't run because Merlin didn't need extra pain as a hindrance. As he panted, he became aware of the palms of his hands; they were scraped and cut. "Merlin, you clumsy oaf," Arthur hissed.

Arthur walked slowly to Gaius's. He had to find out what was happening to Merlin. When he finally arrived at the physician's chambers, his breath hitched. There were no guards. He calmed himself. Them not being outside the door was possibly a good thing. He opened the door.

"Merlin!" Arthur croaked.

Gaius, who had been dozing, awoke with a start. "Sire?" The look Gaius gave was very odd. It seemed more… surprised than Arthur would have expected.

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur demanded.

"In bed."

"I'm going to check on him." He strode resolutely pass Gaius.

"He's resting."

"Doesn't hurt to be—" Arthur stopped. He had found his knights. Percival and Gwaine were passed out on the floor. "What happened to them?" Arthur asked Gaius.

"Well, sire, I tried to dissuade them."

"Yes."

"It seems they've gotten..." Gaius made a face as he motioned towards some jugs. "Drunk."

Arthur rolled his eyes and glared at the unconscious knights. "Fat amount of good you are," Arthur muttered as marched to Merlin's room.

"Sire, Merlin is just sleeping off the effects."

"No, he isn't drunk," Arthur snapped as he opened Merlin's door. "Merlin?" Arthur called on the off chance that Merlin was actually in there.

No answer. No surprise.

Arthur turned around and marched right back down. The prince grabbed a stool and placed it next to the sleeping forms of Percival and Gwaine. "Gaius," Arthur said as he sat down, "Go get Leon, Eylan, and Lancelot."

"Of course," Gaius replied.

As soon as Gaius left, Arthur began to kick his knights' shins. "There. Is. A. Reason. You. Aren't. Supposed. To. Drink. On. Duty."

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><p><strong>Review please! It makes us happy!<strong>


	12. Rage and Pots

_**We have good news and bad. You're getting the good news first. We've updated! Now time for the bad news. We're not updating anything for 18 whole months. For more information about this decision to go on hiatus please see our profile and/or PM me. Don't worry you won't get ignored.**_

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><p>Finley leaned against a tree to stay awake and carefully watched Rose, who stood alert with a drawn sword. "If you're too stupid to figure it out, then go back to sleep." Now that she was awake enough to understand its full significance, Finley found the statement slightly amusing.<p>

In a sense, there was a power struggle between Finley and Rose. It wasn't that Finley necessarily wanted to take Rose's position in the group. It was that Finley knew how to indirectly lead efforts in the direction of her own self-interest, and Rose sensed this displacement of power.

Finley liked to undermine authority while still playing the role of submissive underling. She didn't want to directly lead because others would expect certain responsibilities from her that she preferred to ignore. However, despite always being a "follower," she always got her way. And in Finley's years of experience in many different settings, few people ever noticed her control over a situation until it was too late. Even sometimes after the fact everyone was still oblivious. Finley thought Rose ought to congratulate herself on her perception.

The decisions Rose made, hoping to express her dominance, were interesting. The most interesting was the decision to allow Finley to be the enchanter of the amphora. Ashley and Darby were both powerful enough and intelligent enough to have made the bindings. However, Finley, the one Rose considered mutinous, was allowed the greatest control over one of the most dangerous objects in existence. Others could control it, but the enchanter had primary control. During the process of the bindings Finley realized that Rose was trying to exhaust her, prevent her from plotting. The exhaustion was a minor inconvenience in light of the advantages though. Finley could hardly believe how such a perceptive woman could make such a critical mistake. There had to be another catch other than the means of deactivating the amphora being around Rose's throat. Finley was sure of it; Rose was too clever for that.

Rose was very clever. For a while she had managed to fool everyone into thinking she was more powerful than she was. Finley was fairly certain that Ashley, Ruby, and Darby still thought the pendant around Rose's neck—not the one that could deactivate the amphora—was just a good luck charm. Finley only by chance found out that the pendant was the source of Rose's power. In case Rose's power plays ever turned to disposing of Finley, Finley wasn't going acknowledge that she knew Rose's secret.

The suggestion that Finely should go back to sleep if she's stupid, though, was definitely a good power play. The ostensible reason for staying awake was obvious: If awake, she would be prepared for anything on this already eventful night. However, it might be in her best interest to sleep. Ruby probably just wandered in the wrong direction after answering nature's call. If that was the only problem, then tonight provided nothing worth losing sleep over. In that case, having not slept properly in days, Finley would actually be expressing intelligence by returning to sleep.

As she contemplated the pros and cons of simply going back to sleep, Finley realized that she had done something stupid in her excitement to sleep after finishing the bindings. She had merely tossed the grimoire aside before collapsing. Finley crouched down by the amphora. She should put the magic book somewhere safer, not in open space. They might be forced to leave the amphora - since it required open air - in a wide open area, but they didn't have to do the same with the grimoire.

Finley felt around the pot and bedroll. Nothing. She lifted the bedding, threw it back down, and frantically looked here and there. It had to be here. She couldn't have lost it.

Rose turned around. "What is it?" she demanded.

Finley clenched her jaw. She had no desire to admit such a stupid mistake to Rose. She desperately patted the area around the amphora one last time before saying, "The book is gone."

"What?" Rose hissed icily.

"It's gone," Finley said in a distinctly unapologetic tone. Usually she would pretend to be submissive, but what good would that do now? Rose knew that Finley wasn't as subordinate as she liked to seem.

"You lost it?"

Admittedly, Rose was quite a terror whenever she got angry, but Finley was going to remain nonplussed. "Perhaps you can find it," she replied sardonically.

"Don't you know the hell someone can unleash with that book?"

Of course Finley knew. She had unleashed some of that hell herself. A prime example was the amphora she was kneeling next to. Funnily, Rose almost sounded as though she had a conscience. Finley considered mentioning that but decided not to keep baiting Rose. "Of course. That's why I'm looking for it. So are you going to help, or just stand there shouting veiled threats?" Alright, so Finley couldn't help but bait a little. In a twisted way she was enjoying how direct Rose was willing to be about her disdain when Finley's brother, Ashley, was absent.

Even in the darkness Finley could see Rose's jaw tighten. Having found a lull in acerbic comments, Finley widened her search for the book. Instead of joining the search, Rose turned back to watching the direction in which Ashley and Darby had gone.

After some time Finley looked up at the sound of people approaching. Ashley and Darby had returned. And Darby was carrying Ruby. She was limp, and everything from the waist down was bloodied. Finley only saw Darby take a few steps before he collapsed.

Ruby was dead, and her widower was completely distraught. Finley knew Darby must be regretting all the conflict he had had with his wife. Nobody said anything for many minutes. Nothing could be said. Finley had no problem with being insincere, but she wasn't going to stoop to giving comforting words when she never liked the dead person in the slightest.

After the moment of silence, Rose said to Finley, "Perhaps the one who did this, also stole the book."

"Someone stole the book?" Ashley asked incredulously.

"I don't think Finley would thoughtlessly lose it," Rose explained, managing to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice.

There was another silence which was again broken by Rose. "At this point, if we are to still conquer Camelot, we need to act fast." She paused. "We need to bring the amphora into the city tomorrow and place wheat in it."

"What about giving the people a choice first?" Finley objected.

"We no longer have time."

"I will bring it into the city," Ashley volunteered.

Anger flared inside Finley. It was one thing to allow a few people to die as collateral damage. She could even justify many deaths as long as a greater purpose was served. But what Rose wanted was needless slaughter. It gave no citizen of Camelot a chance to accept sorcery and be ensured safety. Finley could hardly believe that her brother was advocating this plan. Unlike Finley, who could be very sly about achieving her ends, Ashley was direct. If Ashley didn't approve of this plan, he would have said so. At this point there was only one thing Finley could do.

"I will help you," she offered.

* * *

><p>"Gaius!" Merlin's voice hollered as the door opened. "I'm back."<p>

So Gaius did know Merlin had left. Arthur had figured as much. "Where were you?" Arthur asked.

Merlin froze in the doorway, his arms shooting behind his back. "I went for a walk," he answered disconcertedly.

"By yourself? What are you hiding behind your back?"

"You left your chambers like that?" Merlin said weakly, indicating Arthur's bare chest.

"Well, you didn't give me much of a choice, Merlin," Arthur snapped. "What's so important that you had to drug my knights?"

Merlin paled. "I-I didn't drug them. They're just drunk. Just drunk."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. So Merlin did drug them. Placing his elbows in his lap Arthur leaned his face into his hands and bit. Hard.

Arthur was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Merlin and a satisfying thump as whatever the servant had been holding hit the floor.

"What's that?" Arthur demanded.

"It's one of Gaius's books," Merlin replied as he bent down to retrieve the book.

Arthur stood up. Both of them grunted as Arthur's body protested. "Then why were you hiding it?"

"I wasn't hiding it."

"Really?"

"I was just holding it."

"Behind your back?"

"Yes."

Arthur rolled his eyes. He walked towards Merlin. "Then let me see."

"Oh, you don't want to do that."

"Why's that?" Arthur asked with a slight edge in his voice.

Arthur was about a yard away from the idiot. It would make things so much easier if Merlin would just tell. The. Truth.

"No. Arthur," Merlin protested, "Just hand it back to me."

Opening the book Arthur ignored his manservant's pleas. He then flipped the tome open and proceeded to make a growl of outrage. It was a bloody spell book. He turned his head back to Merlin who looked positively sick.

"Where did you really get this?" Arthur demanded.

"I stole it," Merlin replied, pained.

"You?" Arthur sputtered, "Who did you steal it from?"

" A sorcerer."

Arthur felt his face flush. "You what?"

"Or five." Merlin amended distractedly, trying to get the book back.

"Five!" Arthur's voice went up an octave. What was Merlin thinking? Putting his life in danger like that. Only Merlin would think it was a good idea to steal from five dangerous sorcerers instead of reporting them, like a sane person. "What could have been so important that you had to risk both of our lives?"

"I stumbled on them by accident. But I think they're ones who are trying to kill us. I thought that this could help stop them."

Arthur clenched his jaw. This kept getting better and better. "Gaius has already found the cure."

"But I think they're up to something. Something... Big" Merlin sounded slightly desperate.

"What?"

"I don't know. Something bad."

Well that went without saying. Defeated, Arthur slapped the grimoire against Merlin's chest. The twinge of pain almost made Arthur regret the decision. Almost. Merlin shot Arthur filthy look as the prince went grab the stool. Merlin sat down and just as Arthur sat down the door opened. Gaius, Elyan, Leon, and Lancelot entered.

"Merlin got back about five minutes ago."

All of the knights looked bemused.

"Back?" Leon said, clearly Gaius hadn't elaborated on the current plight.

"Arthur, I thought that Percival and Gwaine were watching Merlin?" Elyan pointed out.

"Yes, so did I." Arthur replied dryly. "But someone," Arthur glared at Merlin, "has taken drugging as a hobby."

Merlin glared at Arthur indignantly.

"We're going to have a long day tomorrow because Merlin here thinks he knows where the sorcerers are." Arthur replied.

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><p>After the knights had left, and Gaius had given Arthur and Merlin the old age antidote, Merlin busied himself with the grimoire. Apparently Arthur was worried that the grimoire could have a negative effect on Merlin. The prat wouldn't stop hovering much less go to bed.<p>

"Arthur, Gaius is here. He'll make sure nothing happens. Just go to bed." Merlin pleaded.

Nonplussed, Arthur looked over at Gaius who, unfortunately for Merlin, had fallen asleep. "I think Gaius has dozed off." Arthur replied in a tone that implied that arguing the point could be fatal.

Merlin cursed not sealing Arthur in his chambers before investigating the amphora. It would've made things so much easier. The warlock flipped furiously through the book. Eventually, he found it, what the amphora was for. He read the page several times to make sure that his eyes weren't deceiving him. Merlin felt himself go cold. Surely they weren't that desperate to kill Arthur...

"Merlin." Arthur demanded sharply. "What is it?"

Merlin looked at Arthur and willed his mouth to work. "They mean to poison us."

"How do you figure that? Merlin, they'd have to get our food first." Arthur replied incredulously.

"Not with their amphora they don't." Merlin shook his head fighting the bile rising in his throat. "All they have to do is get that pot within Camelot's walls... If they place something in it that thing becomes poisonous while it remains in it."

"Well, don't worry Merlin." Arthur said cheekily. "I'm not going to eat food out of strange pots."

"You don't understand. If they put wheat in it then all of the wheat in Camelot will become poisonous."

Arthur's face turned serious. "Well, maybe they haven't gotten inside the city. Maybe we can intercept it at the gates and destroy it."

"No!" Merlin almost shouted, causing Gaius to stir slightly.

"No?"

"Arthur, listen to me." Merlin's face had turned shock white. " Whatever you do. Don't let anyone smash that thing. If it gets smashed it could kill everyone in Camelot."

Arthur nodded. "Is there a way to destroy it?"

"Yes, but it will require something. A-a key of some sort that was used to make it."

"Do they need this- key to make it poison things?"

Merlin looked down at the Grimoire quickly scanning the pages. He looked at Arthur and shook his head. "They only need is the amphora and some food."

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><p><em><strong>Hope you enjoyed it. <strong>_**See you in 18 months! ****_I'll still be here though!_**


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